The Emptiness Of One's Self

As our worries start rise, the emptiness of our world fulfills itself. When do the thoughts that make our mind itch stop? When does our self control dismiss itself? What can we expect? Half full or half empty? Dozed off in the night where we sit in silence distracted, by the ilusion of TV shows and social media waiting for disastrous thoughts to put themselves to sleep. Waiting, waiting. Why isn't working? What is wrong? The acceptance of it all doesn't satisfy. The sorrows we drown into our selves isn't content. Stopping our routine to breathe cannot be the only way. It just can't.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 


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