Hello everybody, my name is The Void,
And I've got to tell you, I'm a little bit annoyed.
I'm just minding my own business, why won't you let me be?
Someone tell me why is everyone screaming into me?
I'm not the one to come to with all your worldly problems.
Scream at what bothers you, that's a better way to solve them.
It's not like I'm the one who can fix all of your mistakes,
I'm not the one to yell at when something starts to break.
So piss off over there! Next time something is amiss,
Try doing something different than shouting at the abyss!
About the Creator
Frank Ezernack III
I'm a production manager at a pallet factory in Pennsylvania. I write poetry in my free time as a hobby and a passion. It's an honor to be able to share my work with you all! I write on a wide variety of subjects and themes. Enjoy!
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More stories from Frank Ezernack III and writers in Poets and other communities.
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis2 days ago in Humans
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