Empty Shell

A raging whirlwind,

hair tearing from the roots,

Anger,

Denial,

O' so tempting of fruits.

But all that is left

when the storm settles down,

the tears of the world

in which to drown.

A hollow husk,

drifting atop the waves,

A castaway shell

is all that remains.

Listless, we float,

the sky a prison of gray.

Time, an endless drone,

no night, no day.

We seek warmth, solace,

the guidance of light,

But in the depths of this misery,

not a thing shines bright.

Concealment is our mandate,

to veil the world from our sorrow,

This weak flicker of light,

artificial,

only borrowed.

The world rushes by

without a backwards glance.

The dirges our accompaniment

To this mournful dance.

How to express, to define,

an ache so deep,

A pain that even haunts

the promised escape of sleep.

It does not burn,

it does not lick

with a tongue of flame.

It leeches,

it devours,

leaving you with not but a name.

It does not bite,

it is not hasty,

not a stinging pain.

It engulfs,

All-consuming,

A merciless drain.

Battle is futile,

Hope a mythological thought,

It seeps, a slow poison,

Leaving you craving that one shot.

But to capitulate, to surrender,

Cannot be our course,

Carry on in the name of love,

Remember, without remorse.