A terrible ache, a feeling of drought.
tears in my eyes, and a voice asking me, ‘why?’
As I go black at this point.
I ask, only myself, ‘why?’
From being naive? I know I’m better than that.
lost? I’ve been wandering for quite a while.
void? more like a half-filled can.
fear? If this is it, then of what?
Replaced? forgotten? change?
Now it’s getting hard not to care when I act.