I’m Fed Up with Being Nothing
I watch the wars that burn around us all and see nothing,
Behind cold walls of hate, the silence swallows up nothing.
The pain cries out in every corner, yet we hold nothing,
Our hands remain unmoving, frozen in cruel nothing.
We’ve lost our faces in a mirror cracked by endless nothing,
Forgotten how to reach for others—we give only nothing.
We know the suffering, hear the desperate calls, but do nothing,
Step by step, we turn away and choose the path of nothing.
Each day fades quietly, swallowing hope into nothing,
Our words break silences, but inside there’s still nothing.
We walk empty streets, searching for care but find nothing,
Fragments of light flicker and fade into cold nothing.
Love feels strange and distant, lost deep in the night of nothing,
In children’s eyes, hope trembles, then vanishes into nothing.
Tears fall without meaning; we learn to feel nothing,
But still inside, a small fire burns, a whisper against nothing.
Maybe from these ashes, something will rise beyond nothing,
Maybe tomorrow we’ll find, inside ourselves, true humanity—not nothing.
Until then, we remain hollow words, echoes swallowed by nothing,
And every day we struggle not to sink deeper into nothing.
Copyright ©
Florin Lacatus
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