An Empty Room

It's dark, an absence of photons, 

And I cannot tell my skin apart from my bones,

I have become a shell of broken limbs,

I used to be a home of someone I think,

Sometimes they emit the sounds, and I feel the echo of it,

The cacophony so thick, I can almost taste it, 

I feel the blood rush with the velocity that can't be calculated,

And they collide with my walls and I see the splatter of the red, 

I become the darkness, the blood, the scream, that echo,

The hollowness of the void, doesn't scare me anymore,

But sometimes when I feel the blood galloping towards me now,

I don't know why I want to be swallowed by it, some how,

Because the feelings have nowhere else to go, 

They keep getting cluttered, without telling me so,

Perhaps if I ignore the screams,

They wouldn't collide with the invisible heap,

So that I could be an empty room again,

For someone's need.