Nothing. You are nothing.
There is nothing poetic, loveable or worth anything.
not that you have been able to find. and you’ve searched,
in vain, to find some goodness in your milky white bones.
instead, your bones are made of ash and your internal organs have long decayed.
there is a vacant, endless cavern in your chest.
And somehow, despite the emptiness,
it pulls you down.
Like an anchor, heavier and heavier,
until you are stuck in place.
the anchor firmly lodged into the sand, as marine life swim past it,
paying no attention to your ordeal.
There is sadness everywhere these days.
thank god you’ve stopped claiming that you are ill,
you are fine.
Your stubborn attempt to ignore the cavernous emptiness in your chest,
is what will save them,
it will keep them alive.
it has to.
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