A Poem About Nothing

-A Poem About Nothing-
by
Keaton Foster



Where are you going
Where have you been
Nothing my truest sin
Living within a gilded cage
Crumbling walls continuously fail
Falling down into forever’s womb
Never again to rise to purpose
A sterile void of nonexistence
Where nothing truly lives
And everything certainly dies
No shape is to again be made
Because no shape is taken
An illusion of nothing made real
By this tiresome, bothered mind
Expressing via shoveling
Screaming take this
Up to your neck, above your head
Suffocate upon these ideals
Feel my worrisome heart as it explodes
Each word is a stain becoming a mess
Outward bound they go
Upon the masses
All of my hatred is placated
Little do they know
That I am a master of such games
I have always known what I am doing
I have always done it without regret
They often spend their sacred time
Telling me of what they wish
Lending a voice to my ear
Seemingly deaf I have become
At least to some of them
Others I hear all too well
I take heed to their words
This poem about nothing
Is actually about something
It’s about them and what I must do
To keep them coming back
To keep them within my toxic grip
Suffering as they read
All that I express through my fingertips
The truest link to my heart and soul
These words spelled out are the spark
The living identity of who I am
And what I and my words are capable of…


A Poem About Nothing
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012.