There's an ache.

It's not loneliness,

It's not sadness,

It's pain. The ache

Of hurt and loss.

Not loss of life

But loss of hope.

It's the loss of self

And the want to kill

All hopes and wants

For no point, no plan

There's nothing left

inside this aching shell

I'm dry as a well

That's empty from drought.

It's hollow. It's dead.

My life. My future.

It's plans and goals

Forever unwed

Because there's not

A reason to lecture

On needing purpose

If everything's gone.

Why is there still

The inevitable tomorrow

When all that I feel

Is useless fear of

Going nowhere but

Endless fields of sorrow.

But it's always true,

The curse of days

That don't go away

If we give up.

It doesn't just stop

So I cant' just drop

It all for hate and pain.

I want to though.

For me there's some

Lame excuse for more

Of this pointless empty.

It won't ever end

Because it can't.

Without life it'd be

Nothing but death.

And that won't

Suffice for me.

So I must struggle

Against the nothing

That fills the void

Always searching for joy

Even knowing it's not there.

They know where

But they don't see

That I can't wear

Their jeweled fa├žade

Of ignorance.

So for now I'm silent

And waiting to be sent

To the future.

To the ache.