Empty Nest

A Poem by Tremetol

A short poem about a lot of things.

To the thing that loved.
To the thing that cared.
To the thing that even wondered If I was really there.

Having never left the shell.
The words I spoke echoed quite well.
Speaking to the white to comfort myself at night.
It told me to explore a new height.
So hatching from my home, I sung for quite a spell.
Yet with no response, I learned, I always was in hell.

I slunk back inside the thing that was once my abode.
The soothing sound I knew had left me alone.
I felt that I was deeply marred.
I couldn't keep them from tearing me apart, scarred.
In the bottom of my shell, now red.

I wept for all the things I had before,

I realized I was dead.

To the thing that loved.
To the thing that cared.
To the thing that even wondered If I was ever really there.

Goodbye.