There is nothing in my hands.


There is nothing in my hands.
My breath runs dry.
I don’t want to try.

To explore the lands afar
That’s all I wanted to do.
Why is this life so hard to get through?

I just can’t feel it in my veins.
The beating grows slower and nears a stop.

That light always ends.
Those endings always
shoot me in the chest.
The blood runs dry.
The hole through which
you see the pile of despair and disappointment
I can never bear.

Multiple numbers fly around 
they do.
I’ve got just one.

Nothing added.
Nothing lost.
It’s as good as when I’m gone.

"What happened,
sister dear?”
"So young the hope escapes you."
It’s just that
there is nothing in my hands.

An empty person I am.


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