Nothing.

Devastated and destroyed,
I can feel my existence crumbling. 
The tension in my body, the strain in my mind, 
The cold in my eyes, and the black in my heart.
Everything is deteriorating.
 
The scars on my body tell the story of the anger and malice.
I have painted these walls with the names of the ones I used 
to confide in.
What's the difference between life and death?
They both have shortened me of breath.
 
I am powerless.
I am longing.
I am dead.
I am nothing. 
 
 
 
This poem is about: 
Me

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