An empty shell floating in space
Parading as part of the human race
Eyes open, never seeing
Lungs working, never breathing.
The sun shines through this fragile thing, where it should reflect
It silently believes that this is simply a defect
When in the chosen darkness, a deep and dense black vault
No true comfort found there, but unseen is this fault.
A sigh is uttered as it falls softly to the ground
No trace of noises or of echoes, nothing makes a sound.
It cannot stand the silence, this rest is not a gift
It gets picked up by the next cool breeze and then begins to drift.
As it drifts the hinges creak, it wouldn’t last forever
No one watches as the pieces sever, slowly sever.
Each finger separates in silence, floating far away
Now nothing remains of what was whole yesterday.
This burning question comes to mind:
Could anybody tell
That what they had just come to find
Was just an empty shell?