My cup runneth over, but yet I still feel parched.
I feel like a lingering thought.
I feel like an incomplete dish.
Something is definitely missing.
I've tried to fill it with religion.
I've tried to feel it with art.
I've tried to fill it with romance.
I've tried to feel it with danger.
I've tried to fill it with charitable deeds.
I tried to fill it with idle games.
I've to fill it with random hobbies.
I've even tried to fill it with lust.
Never the less I will feel and emptiness.
It's cold.
Feels so desolate.
It feels so bleak.
Am I just remain searching for all eternity.
Will I ever be whole?
Will I ever be fulfilled?
Will I ever be complete?
Hallziespoetrycorner: Poetry with a passion.Poetry for all occasions ™
HLH©3/7/22
message me @ passionwebmail@poeticpassion.host
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