Emptiness

Underappreciated

Overworked

Spiraling in a spiral

So windy not even God

Can see the end and it keeps

Going and going until

You reach a dead end and you have to turn around

But at this mark you’re so turned around

You can’t tell the ceiling from the ground

And the ground seems like a nice place to be

Because being is as inevitable as dying

But being just means spiraling

Not spiraling but bottling

Bottling and exploding

Exploding nothing because the bottle forgot what was inside

It’s been sitting there for so long

You can’t tell why, but you’re crying

Crying so hard and heaving

Not heaving but hurting, definitely hurting

And your eyes get all messed

And you try to block the sound

But you can’t tell the ceiling from the ground

And since they’re the same

At this point you’re already flying

So why not get some wings to reach the heavens

To touch the sun to touch the rain before it forms

The bottle before it gets shaken

The muscles before they ache

The heart before it breaks

Yourself before you’re taken

Just to sleep before you’re so exhausted that you can’t

To not climb but live atop the mound

And to tell the ceiling from the ground