Empty Creations
An empty shell
Built to automate emotion
Consider well
That nothingness becomes an ocean
An empty hole
Where everything is how to save you
What you don’t know
Is that nothingness becomes what you do
An empty chair
Lifeless and abused forever
The distant stare
The nothingness exists to sever
So full of pain
Your demons whisper words of heaven
Now start again
The nothing has you count to seven
So full of joy
Your mask has got you wrapped in silence
To not destroy
Your nothingness repressed the violence
An empty shell
So full of concentrated silence
Considered well
That nothingness creates horizons
Copyright © Ian Petch | Year Posted 2007
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