The Eyes of the Empty

In all of the madness that I see, and all of the nonsense that surrounds me,

I look hard to find meaning in the ever increasing insanity.

Is there a place for me?

 

I read to feel a kinship with the world around me,

I read to find hidden beauty in the most desperate of times.

 

In every eye that locks with mine, and every last soul I pass on the coastline,

I see the shambles of regret, the sheer joy of living, but also an emptiness.

Is there a point to this?

 

I write to be an unlikely companion for the eyes trapped in darkness,

I write to radiate a spark of hope in the eyes of the empty: humanity.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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