Hollow.

Americana Injustica

I have no desire to hear any,
man-made songs about victory,
versions of some dumb “melody”,
that tells my own tale, supposedly…

I have no draw towards the legacy,
that I am trailing behind me, unwillingly,
I have no answer to an endless inquiry,
no horses to show for my cavalry…

I have no lingering warm memories,
my mind and heart have been emptied,
left wide open for any passersby to see,
and carve another set of initials into me…

I have no reason to honestly believe,
in the notion of anyone ever loving me,
like an empty trunk of a hollowed-out tree,
that stands long after death as others live in me.

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