There is nothing to let out

The pressure is gone.

An equilibrium was reached where everything turned into nothing.

Where a moment of too much shifted to a life of nothing at all.

Where eerie silence overpowers the noise that ring in my ears.

The fuel tank is empty—the rocket will not fly

Though the paint has yet to chip, the parts have rusted.

It's worth nothing—cannot achieve flight—so it just stands.

So I stand.