It's not about how hollow the room is,
it's not about how crowded the street is,
and it's not about how I looked hellish.

It's about nothing.
Nothing filled up my entire neuron.
Nothing filled up the holes in my heart.
Nothing filled up the pitch black sky.

Nothing filled up my nothingness.

It's 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑦.

I wish that when my hand reached out to my heart, it won't take a decade to hold on to something.

Oh...

... When did the last time my hand grabbed onto 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨?