Untitled

This is something I wrote while depressed.

Untitled

Perceived as an empty room,
actually an empty world.

The silence fills up the empty soul.
Dripping in from the sky like rain.

Through the motions
muscles move
food is eaten
air passes in, air passes out

Still empty, but waiting
for the thing that fits

Everyone's puzzle pieces are linked.
Everyone's but mine.

Somewhere,
my puzzle piece walks
feeling empty and
looking upward, searching

Time to top the hill and sing.
Time to complete the puzzle, call it home.

When it arrives I will slather it.
I will slather it with sealant to keep forever.