The Infinite Sadness


There is an empty space where all good that goes in is consumed and vanished, never to be found.

This space gets deeper in deeper with time, black-holing it’s permanent presence, consuming  joys and distractions and trading them for even more empty space.

It’s starving, and there appears to be no satiating it’s famine.

There is the sun, there is the sky, there are mountains, there are rivers, there is adventure, there is travel, there are people, and there are friends. But all that goes in does not stay. Nor does not come out.

It’s just gone.

Where does it end?

When does it end?

How many more suns and skies and mountains and rivers and adventures and travels and people and friends do I need to fill this space?




You’re gone, and it’s fine, but you took something with you and I need it back.

Give it back.


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