Empty tunnels echo pain.
Beating heart and throbbing veins.
Scattered thoughts and shattered soul,
Hatred fills the empty hole.
Where to turn in this turmoil?
Mind in tempest, face in soil.
I gave too much and feel too weak,
And uttered words I never speak.
Without the mind to stay alone,
Or the want for friends I know.
I wish for comfort from above,
But hatred lives where once was love.
When we give to much we’re left in pain,
Yet, I know deep down, I’d give again…
– By Randall Evans.
Written for the Daily Prompt: Depth