I have nothing at all,
and I give it all to you,
to do with as you would,
but please show it some respect.
For this emptiness is coloured with crimson love,
and with it's life and breath wraps it's vacant blanket
around everything you do.
There is no amen here,
just a whisical wish,
that you see through the great lie,
past the scaffold that supports the leaning tower of truth,
and learn to love not what is argued to be real,
but what might be true.
