• These words flow from the tips of my fingers,
    As they have many many times before.
    While the feeling empty meanings lingers,
    My originality lays battered and sore.

    It is all so familiar,
    The pain and misery.
    It is all too similiar,
    Your emotions are the same with me.

    This is not a feeling of sorrow nor joy,
    Not phrases of anger or empathy.
    But the feeling of playing with a used toy,
    The sneaking feeling of apathy.

    With this I leave you,
    To find the meaning.
    With this there is few,
    To find the feeling.