This is supposed to be about something
Be it love, or history,
or something else you think holds meaning
But here, this is about nothing.
Like all those times you don't know what to say,
Stumbling over your own tongue
lost in all the things that could be.
Or fumbling with the pen,
Unsure of what to write.
An ode to the unknown, the lost,
the hungry
Those of us who can see the beauty of needing,
The necessity of not-having.
A story about nothing
Addressed to no one
Where is there to leave it?
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