Well, I am yet to recieve any poetry from you, so, I guess I am forced to write another poem for you to read.

As I sit in the corner of my room, I stare at the empty blackness of space, knowing that the space's empty blackness doesn't compare to the blackness of the emptyness of my heart. Without love, without compassion, because I have lost the ones who love me. And I wonder, "What color would space be if someone felt compassion for it, or if it had any friends?" Would it stay black, our turn nice, sunny and full of glee? Will we ever know?

by pinkpoet.

© 1997 pinkpoet@usa.net
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