I am filling the empty spaces
with meaningless things.
Mindless entertainment,
hollow trinkets,
I am just killing time before
time kills me.
My heart lost contact to art.
Once I wanted to clear my head
but now I want it all to come back
to distract me from the barren land
of life I am walking through.
I don’t see myself worth the fight
so life is only
survive
survive
survive.
No goal.
No end in mind.
Just desolate days that turn into sleepless nights.
You can buy my book on Amazon by clicking: Rehab
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Your poem has both beauty and ugliness of truth. I think it is well done.
This is so me.