My rucksack of make believe
Is soon to run out,
But for now I will spend.
The day has been long,
The evening tired,
And the lonely night
Needs some food to sleep.
I don't live alone,
But with a breathing void,
Who just speaks and speaks
But is never really heard.
I don't sleep alone,
But with a breathing silence,
Who is felt and always felt
But never really warm.
The silent void breathes
As the night tries to feed,
But never a morsel does it eat.
Hungry it remains awake
And tries in vain to speak.
Yet it screams, it is loud,
But what more I hear is,
How that silent void
You have left behind, breathes.
There's no more left to spend,
It's all run out, it's empty-
My rucksack of make believe.
