A hundreds of thousands rooms.
Filled with laughter's and joy.
People roaming around.
Time flies and they'll go,
Let them go; yes you have to
Until the rooms will be void.
The rooms filled with air,
Darkness and emptiness.
Traces of pain and loss.
My Misselthwaithe Manor
Thousands of your rooms
Filled with weeping sound
The prolonged agony of living.
YOU ARE READING
EMPTY
PoetryThe encounter of a shattered soul fed with empty promises and shallow words.
