Empty Cup

Here I am, 

again,

laying here alone staring up at a ceiling that's staring right back,

why? 
what's the purpose? 
why was I put here to be so empty,

my cup

empty,

a burden more than anything,

I have nothing to give 

no reason to live 

but maybe that's the purpose 

no reasoning;

just being,

I must go on, 

an empty cup;
endless possibilities of what it could be filled up with