Empty Souls

Empty souls

With so much dryness

They try to fill their cup

With water from others wells

But they are never full

Never do they overflow

With shallowness

They try to dig holes

Into others wells

To dry them as well

But their souls remain

Empty spaces

With hollowness

They wonder around

Bitterness in their hearts

Venom filled tongues

Splitting evil into others

But empty they remain

With blindness

They fail to see

Clueless they move

Round and round

They stumble and fall

In their own wickedness

Their days

Are as dried up

As blown by the harmattan

Their souls

Are as lifeless

As the Atacama desert