There's a special sadness,
Unlike any other I've felt.
A sort of detached emptiness,
Like eating a bowl of rotten food that you can't taste
Part of the pain is the fact that you cannot feel it.
It's bearable, no doubt, but not for lack of trying.
The numbness is a curse in disguise, or maybe a blessing.
You throw anything you can at the void
Knowing you'll just watch it disappear.
Like being on an empty plane with nothing to do but wait.
And nothing about it hurts but you almost wish it would,
Because there is no cure for non-pain.