Nothing
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Although I know Nothing, I know it well;
for Nothing ensures that my head doesn't swell.
Nothing leaves me Nothing to gripe about;
and yet fuels my compulsion to shout.
Nothing is oft the stuff of sleepless nights;
confusing as a deer caught in highlights.
Though Nothing has no weight or feel to it,
it hurts much more than I care to admit.
The loss of innocence is a slow theft;
yet before you know it, Nothing is left.
Nothing can't be easily washed away
by tears when emotions come into play.
And Nothing's frightening; weighing me down,
like an empty promise that hangs around.
Though Nothing has Nothing to do with love,
it fuels my impulse to rise above.
Copyright © Emile Pinet | Year Posted 2023
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