IT SINGS SO LOUDLY
Will this emptiness cease?
From time to time I hope
And don’t tell me what I already know
Since right now
It feels never-ending-
And I keep myself busy,
like they say
Lonely I pray, move and distract
Yet grief consumes me considerably.
Am I meant to survive for more?
Trust those who know me?
For truly they know me
I’ll attempt not to give in
To the emptiness within,
But right now
I’m not okay
and for no amount of pretending
grief stays away-
My optimism softens me
But slow despair
It sings so loudly.
That weird, inexplicable nothing which seems to consume time, simply regurgitating a world of emptiness in it’s place.
As if all the personal loans of purpose and direction have been consolidated into one more manageable loan of nothingness with periodic repayments of yearning.
And yet still the salesmen and saleswomen call, suggesting that he switches from his current plan to one with ‘greater benefits’ or ‘easier control’.
Some call with sincere care and a heartfelt belief that their plan, their world, offers more. And yet do they really understand, can they understand, that his world is not one which he wants to live in but one he can’t yet escape?
He doesn’t doubt their sincerity, nor even their caring and their love.
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