I don’t have dreams anymore; it all slipped away. I don’t think about tomorrow; just another endless day.
I don’t look forward to the future, the way I once did. Mirth and solace faded, a kind of lonesome dread.
I just don’t care. It’s not despair. No, there’s just nothing there.
The love I used to feel, has dried up like a leaf. Faith they say is all you need to bring you some relief, but my heart beats in an empty tomb, bereft of all belief.
I just don’t care. It’s not despair. No, there’s just nothing there.
I look up at the sky; all I see is gray. Melancholy smog masks a teal sunny day, unclouded thoughts begin to tear, tatter and fray.
Shrouds of gloom wrap me up in arms of dim dejection. Cloaking me and all my hopes from serrated rejection.
I just don’t care. It’s not despair. No, there’s just nothing there.
A hollow empty core, like a hungry tummy, sore…
But it’s not despair; a world in disrepair. There’s just nothing; a shelf left bare. I just don’t care… anymore.
© 2018 Peter Noah Thomas Photo by Pawel Szvmanski