My heart is filled with emptiness

Essentially all the time.

Sometimes it helps to put my thoughts

To page, to wit, to rhyme.

Physically, mentally, real and imagined—

I cannot help but feel

Some days it is the only way 

That I can tell I’m real

I try to think about my life

With warm, and rich affection,

But often that is difficult

In my state of abjection.