Empty
In the recesses of my mind
Emotions are held captive, blind.
Pretending lightness I do not feel.
No one realizes it's not real.
Existing is the word I'd use,
To describe life I'm going through.
It's not living,of that I'm sure.
With no quality and the pain endured.
Happiness? Well it's an illusion.
Out of reach in the brains confusion.
Of what I call just getting through,
Responding daily as expected too.
When in my depths I still grieve,
For all the years taken from me.
Also for the complete disregard
That Corporation agendas impart.
I am at the point where I don't care,
What friends and family want to share.
Solitude, no emotional effort.
Myself, pen and paper are my comfort
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