empty

in this empty house
when I talk to myself
I sound twice as loud
like a stuffed up head
and a clogged throat

the tears don’t leave tracks
quite as effectively as my hands.

in this empty mind
throbbing pitfalls
thoughts left in half
for my own good
for my own gain

the sound of my defeat
isn’t half as quiet as my pain.

in this empty heart
I can’t hear a thing
screaming into the void
useless nothingness
and everything between

the words don’t numb
nearly as much as the scars do