Something That is Nothing
I'm so alive that I'm dead.
The anger that kills inside.
The nothing that fills the grave.
The nothing that comes alive
My home is the cemetery.
Where the love and pain dies.
I hate that I am the only thing.
The thing that's left to die.
And I am nothing.
I really am.
I am something
I will deny.
I lived, therefore I died.
Labels: dead, depressed, depression, nothing, poem, poema, poesia, poetry, read, reading, root times, roottimes, sad, something, unalive, write, writing
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