My emptiness is reflected as I look into the mirror, seeing the same pathetic person that I have for years. The same person who struggled with their weight and inner demons, if you could even call them as such. Inner terrors is more of a label; those empty eyes that hold nothing but bitterness for themselves. Moving shadows in the shapes of thoughts that dance across the walls with a sense of terrifying grace that I find almost seducing. They worm their way into the cracks and crevices of my mind and start to whisper their secrets, their damn clouding secrets.  They clap their hands and sing it softly, as if creating alluring lullaby weaved of lies.

But are they truly lies, or am I just pretending?
Trying to fill this empty space that years of decay and war have created, this worn out spot in my soul that's temporarily filled every day with some mindless thought or emotion. Some wanderer, some passerby that I grab and hold onto tight before they eventually turn to dust with the howling winds. Then I stalk, grab another and repeat.

Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.

The day falls to night and I uncover my eyes to be in the darkness once more.
I sit with my eyes open, blind, and thinking. I let go of my stranger and let them wander once more as I cave into my sadness.

And cry alone.