Sup3rnality

People keep asking me that same damn question. A question I don't have an answer to. And it makes me what? Want to scream, cry, throw things around, laugh hysterically, shout obscenities? Sometimes all of that at once and more. It pains me that as hard as I try, an allusion to an almost-certain future never gratifies the question marks. It pains me because the only one who hurts is me. The hollowness echoes through the void that should be filled. Need to be filled. These blanks with words unwritten. A digit without a band. Empty words hang in the balance meant to soothe the flames. But flimsy letters only set the fire roaring. This want to close the spaces only wedges a wall between us. Please stop laying bricks. Please stop.