Posted in Challenges, drama, My Poetry, Writing

Empty Existence

Deprived of love,
devoid of hate.
An empty soul,
a cursed fate.

Surrounded by
a thousand suns,
yet still he feels
like deadly guns
are pointing at
his spirit’s light.
He has no way
to conquer fright.

Deprived of hope,
devoid of faith,
he’s but a ghost—
a mindless wraith.


Written in response to two Daily Post Prompts — deprive and empty.

Feel free to tell me what you think!

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Author:

Absolutely fantastic procrastinator. Creative, often irrational, hyperactive. Reader, writer, artist, photographer, film-maker, gamer.

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