The walls echoed in silence,
Here was a lost cause, not worth any guidance.
His existence held no purpose,
Cursed, he was sentenced to nothingness.
Life was his judge; his mind, the shackles.
He felt himself, being ripped apart by his battles.
He gasped as his own blood tried to drown him,
And in that moment, he knew he had nothing.
Stones cut his feet. He longed to be invisible,
From accusing eyes, clawing hands and all deeds terrible.
But he was a puppet and the unseen pulled the strings,
And in that moment he knew he was nothing.
While his consciousness sunk into the abyss,
His spirit dampened and called it quits.
Alas! His body could not but fail,
Braving his horrors alone, he knew he felt nothing.
Outside the stars began to paint their black canvas,
And it dawned upon him, the truth, obvious.
An empty cup could surely be filled,
Emptiness was nothing but everything.
