White wall


There’s something about a white wall,
So blank yet so expressive,
The way it’s content in it’s simplicity and purpose,
I spend hours upon hours staring into it,
I would like to say it’s like the abyss,
But the abyss stares back,
The white wall mocks me in an indescribable way,
Loud but soft,
Proud yet simple,
When faced with the never ending whiteness I feel pure,
Pure but also dirty,
I am conflicted in my thoughts,
Faced by something so simple but so complex,
I’m descending into madness,
The blankness is empty but takes up so much space,
It’s fulfilling in a way but makes me hunger,
Hunger for more of the nothingness,
Oh how it taunts me so,
I envy the vacant wall that should be worthless,
But so sought after,
It makes me feel like I can exist without purpose,
To just sit idly by and be admired,
Oh how nice it would be to be desolate and bare,
Alas I must be content with cherishing the smoothness,
I may never placate my need to be the white wall.

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