A series

I am tired yet can’t sleep.

I am alive yet feel dead.

I am energized yet exhausted.

I am whole yet broken.

I am cold yet my heart beats with fire.

I sleep yet I find no rest.

I venture out and yet hold things in.

A series of contradictions.

That is my life.

I wish for change yet can do nothing to bring it about.

Not personally, or globally.

I speak with a voice that falls on deaf ears.

Yet I am the only one that listens.

These echoes are hollow, and yet I hear them clearly.

And to what end?

For everything returns to nothing.

That is who I am.

Nothing.

I gain nothing.

I know nothing.

For I am nothing.

A series of events that mold me.

But the end is always the same.

I learn to let go.

For clinging on has only brought pain and suffering.

And these things are already frought in me.

And so I drift.

Waiting for something.

No, that something is nothing.

A complete void.

And yet so familiar.

I have been here before.

Like when I first died inside.

Except this time there is no marble white.

There is only black.

And it blinds all who try to pierce it.