The Wanderer

Empty, like a hollow vase,
Filled with nothing but empty space.
No joy or sorrow or escalation.
Just nothingness and desolation.

Dark like the blackest night,
A world without pleasure or light.
A place unnoticed by the eyes.
Where my deepest sorrow lies.

Silent like a wandering soul
Floating, hungering to be whole.
I pass through the fabric of time,
Yearning for a road, a sign.





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