Empty is...
Empty is...
the sky before the sun wakes up the morning.
Empty is...
the eyes of animals in cages.
Me?
Don't ask me about empty.
Empty is...
A string of dirty days
held together by some rain.
Empty is...
The cold prowling December winds
beating at my window panes.
Empty is...
The trees in autumn
all bereft and bare.
Empty is...
the hour before sleep,
kills you every night,
then pushes you to safety
away from all light.
Empty is me.
Empty is me.
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