There is a throbbing emptiness
Caused by things not well done,
Caused by the absences
Of the presences not noticed before.
One nods to the idiocy
Contained in broken dreams,
In broken hearts,
In the pathetic of being,
But what comes after that anyway?
When, then, one finds failure in himself,
Try to escape into big statements
Or faceless empty remarks.
That emptiness,
Caused by the bad choices,
Cause of many causes,
Slowly and completely
Eats out the flesh and soul
Of a good intentions man.
