Finding Nothing

Soul Poetry

I've searched until I'm weary,

with blisters upon my soul

and still I'm finding nothing

that lets me gain the control.

When there is nothing left,

there is nothing left to find.

When there is no tomorrow ahead,

all is left too far behind.

Everything is nothing

and nothing is everything, it seems.

At night I toss in tormented state,

taunted by my broken dreams.

So in my finding nothing,

each and every single day,

there's really nothing left to look for

and even lesser still, to say.

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