VoidsMature

People are provided with talents
We are good
at the things we love
We love
the things we are good at
Someday.
These things will leave us
No longer
will there be music
in our fingertips,
no words
on the tips
of our tongues.
You are a void
Meant to be filled
And one day
you will lose
the things
you needed
to fill you.
This is a misery
indescriable
much to the despairty
filling your lungs.
You will search for the days
you had everything
at the flick of a wrist
And long
for the days
you never needed
anything else.
One day
you will lose
the fillers
and your void
will remind you
how empty
everything
really is.

The End

37 comments about this poem Feed