I am empty.
All my thoughts have been released.
There is nothing left it seems.
My heart is gone.
A void is in its place.
As I’ve written my blood was spilled upon the pages of life.
I may dream but they are dreams of chaos.
They are dreams without a beginning and without an end.
I lie in silence without even sleep to fill my mind, body, or soul.
It is a constant repetition.
An infinite circle of tribulations.
Life is so simple yet so complicated.
What it takes to fill this emptiness within is yet to be known.
Is everything I experience a misinterpretation of reality?
Time may or may not tell me.
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