More Than Nothing

Your whole world is falling down and shatters, and piece by piece by broken piece, from broken home, from broken heart, from the father you never had, from always feeling sad.

Your broken, no, shattered, pieces are soon enough scattered across your face as they flow down the tracks of rivers from your eyes to your chin, you don't give up you can't give in.

These shattered, no, broken, pieces are displayed in front of you like your lack of morals, you scatter more beneath the hurt of emptiness, because nothing hurts more than nothing.

Feeling nothing, knowing nothing; all this nothing is none other but a blank canvas of NOTHING. Your empty heart is all apart, these scarce and dark pieces.

Pieces. Shards of your intellect, shard by shard by shattered shard, you are scarred by nothing more than yourself.

The diagnostic of self hate is what represents and defines you and who, no, why you are.

Why are you here, why are you feared? Feared by this monster of a monster who is just you in a reflection.

You are the monster. The one who scatters broken shards around your house, you need to get OUT.

Get out of your head, out of your house, out of the raging storm behind your eyes. These pretty lies are conceived of nothing more than you.

You. Your crashing world, piece by piece by broken piece, from broken home, and broken heart, you are the start of it all, a new generation.

You are more than your broken, no, shattered shards. More than the pieces of misfortune, you are the equivalent of perfectly imperfect.

Nothing, oh there's that word again; nothing in the hurricane of your shipwrecked mind can take away from everything that "Nothing" cannot grasp.

You are more than your broken pieces of more than nothing, as a shattered shard is just a stem of the original work.

~Aly Woods