The Empty Space

Do we all write because we are in pain?

Are we incapable of thinking from our brain?

Please picture a place without you in it

Empty the unspoken

And stop to scream

the mornings are the same as they used to be

They are just as pretty as they used to be

There is an unbroken silence in that space

Because you're not in it

you can't fixate your gaze

The space is asking for answers you never give

It's trying to breathe through

trying to feel real

Do we all write because we are in pain?

A glass of rum, is it what takes to forget our brain?