That void is there you know, that hole…
That perpetual pain that eats away
Like rats nibbling on dreams
abandoned to the silence
Like forgotten wedding photographs
in lifeless, lonely corners
Like spent matches and wooden pegs
beside a white, wood oven
Like embers that never moved an inch
from beneath the blackened cauldron
Like books and toys and Christmas lights
in musty, dusty, drawers
Like the echoes of humanity
in a house with great acoustics
