Empty, as a result of broken.

Watching the world go by
from my window in the sky

I feel...

nothing.

I see the sorrow and the anger,
the poverty and hunger;

and cannot bring,
myself,
to feel even the tiniest slither of pity
or contempt.

I see the smiling faces,
the hugs.
The laughter, the arrows and the pins.

But there is nothing inside.

Something broke,
sometime,
somewhere

and now nothing
will ever
be right
again.