I feel so very void of everything
Like all of it drained out of me at once;
I am not sure that I know anything,
And if you asked me, I would prove a dunce.
I breathe, of course, or else would have no life,
I think enough to write this with my thumbs.
But where I'm normally sharp as a knife
My mind grows woozy and my spirit numbs.
The day is purposeless, and all adrift;
Nothing except existence keeps on going.
Nothing I try seems to provide a lift,
Nor can I find a way to keep life flowing
Except to think of you. And when you're here
That, despite everything, will bring me cheer.
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