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Literature Text
I feel empty.
Hollow.
Like an empty, uncovered grave.
Lying within, memories of you.
In you tossed a thin layer of dirt.
A measure of your pity.
Then buried them beneath rough, hard stone,
So when they attempt to break free,
They bring only pain
And blood.
You've made a monster of me, my love.
Living dead.
Hollow.
Like an empty, uncovered grave.
Lying within, memories of you.
In you tossed a thin layer of dirt.
A measure of your pity.
Then buried them beneath rough, hard stone,
So when they attempt to break free,
They bring only pain
And blood.
You've made a monster of me, my love.
Living dead.
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Congratulations, Frankenstein.
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Comments10
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You say all of this. But your work makes me feel alive again: creative again.
In this world there are many wandering souls, sucking up resources and leaving nothing for those who would walk the trails afterward. But you have left something and continue to do so. You nourish strangers without meaning to and without knowing. Most importantly, without appreciating.
Can one truly be empty when from his fingertips spring life?
I would argue that you are not empty, like the hollow, dry seed that never realized it would one day be an apple tree, bringing others sustenance and joy.
You are simply not bloomed to your full potential, but it will certainly happen in time. Just ask the strong oak, who grows for decades without even realizing he will one day be shelter and shade.
In this world there are many wandering souls, sucking up resources and leaving nothing for those who would walk the trails afterward. But you have left something and continue to do so. You nourish strangers without meaning to and without knowing. Most importantly, without appreciating.
Can one truly be empty when from his fingertips spring life?
I would argue that you are not empty, like the hollow, dry seed that never realized it would one day be an apple tree, bringing others sustenance and joy.
You are simply not bloomed to your full potential, but it will certainly happen in time. Just ask the strong oak, who grows for decades without even realizing he will one day be shelter and shade.