The Hollow Man

The Hollow Man falls down the street, and soldiers on his tired feet;

"Because," he says "because I can.

"It's all I know.

"It's who I am."

His wearied soul slams on the ground, 

he contemplates upon the sound.

"Like rain," he thinks "but more pronounced.

"Or like the thoughts I won't announce"

His heels are split, and out they bleed

He begs for more; "It's what I need.

"It helps me think.

"It helps me dream."

The Hollow Man sleeps by himself, an empty bottle on the shelf;

"Because," he says "because I can."

"It's all I know.

"It's who I am."

The wooden boards around him groan,

sighing with an evil tone.

His muscles ache, his heart is stone,

he's tired of a life alone.

He drifts away, pondering

"Why have I been wandering?

"What I seek cannot be had,

"and this is not worth travelling."