Nothing
I know Nothing, and I know it well;
and that ensures that my head doesn't swell.
Nothing is nothing to gripe about,
suppressing any desire to shout.
Nothing is the stuff of sleepless nights;
it's like a deer caught in the headlights.
Nothing has no heft or feel to it:
the legacy of a hypocrite.
Nothing, sometimes, is all you have left;
loss of innocence is a slow theft.
Nothing isn't easily washed away,
even by the tears wept every day.
Nothing is frightening to confront,
like an empty gesture or affront.
Nothing can obscure your path to love;
it forces your heart to rise above.
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