It feeds Within me
A hunger of empty space it yearns
and feeds of my needs to transform
All that I have. All that I will
Turns up empty and begins to fill
my innerness with emptyness. Won't stop until
there's nothing left. Just emptyness.
I lie broken a shattered image of what once before
was a hope, a dream of a life of more.
What I could, I would if given the chance
Of that last breath, last song, last dance.
I'd run over green grassy hills to the top.
I'd jump over mountains
I'd fly over tops of the highests highs
I never would stop for a chance to just live, to breathe.
I might describe my job in a little more detail here. I'll write about what I do, what I like best about it, and even some of the frustrations. (A job with frustrations? Hard to believe, huh?)