The Void of Enough

Space is a spinning blank, emotion turned to pain,
swirling in circles, an orbit of disdain.
An anger birthed from loneliness,
from desires unkept, a craving’s caress.

Is it enough? Could it be enough?
The question reverberates, echoes rough.
ENOUGH! the scream is swallowed whole—
a desperate plea from a hollow soul.

Enough? Enough? But can it be done?
Will the spinning cease, or has it just begun?
The void stretches wide, an endless sprawl,
a pit of need where I endlessly fall.

I reach for something, anything to fill,
the aching emptiness that refuses to still.
Is it enough to touch, to crave, to yearn?
Or will the hunger forever burn?

A spiral of thoughts, a galaxy untamed,
a universe of questions left unnamed.
For what is enough when space is so vast,
when the present feels haunted by echoes of the past?

Is it enough to just be, to simply exist?
Or must I seek more, unable to resist?
ENOUGH! I scream into the endless night,
but the stars remain silent, out of sight.

So I spin, and I fall, and I grasp at the air,
hoping to find something that cares.
But can it be done? Can I find what I seek,
or will I be lost, spinning forever, weak?

The emptiness expands, a void so deep,
and I wonder if enough is just a dream I keep.
For in this space, where emotions decay,
I am left to wonder if there is another way.