Vanity

I walk around holding the void in my hands. I act normal and tranquil with what I have. For many, I appear to be fine, perhaps great. The futile life of mine is spreading like poison throughout my veins. I savor the bitter taste in my blood whilst feeling the ache in my bones. Fragility is the new feature of my body. I walk, and yet I hear the crackling sounds of my bone, the ticking bomb in my head, and the rising tide in my heart.

I used to wonder how emptiness can be powerful enough to feel a void. Because the moment the void is filled with emptiness, it becomes a deserted island altogether with itself. Emptiness filled my void, then I became the great beholder of vanity for I am altogether vacant now.

Behold, the moment emptiness bewitched me, I became vacant of vacant. Who else would fight me to behold the title of vain anymore?