LIFE by [Artist Name Here]

Born into an empty book
Where memories act as ink.
Giving death to life and destroying all that we knew in innocence.
We write barren words on lines we cannot taste.
Our existence counting for nothing but a comma.
The dead words once spoken by those who refused to listen will too become as hallow as their meaning.
Void of purpose,
I stand alone in youth.
Abandoned, bare and blank.
I’m living.

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