Life

Poetry, an expression of a persons heart, a reflection of the deepest of woes and the most joyous moments. But tell me is it possble to write a poem with meaning and substance when inside you feel nothing. Can a poem reflect the depths of a shallow pool? Or can it be that the feelings of one's own heart can be so complex that they are not able to be discerned? Is it possible that life can be so cruel as to steal a persons inner being? Can life turn one into nothing more than a shell, more hollow than the caves? How can it be, let me see, what is it that life has done to me. Well as for now its time to go, to go out and live my life.