Missing Poem by Matthew Boisjolie

Walking around the furnace,
in this frame of mind,
as something is missing,
my life is complete,
and i enjoy it every minute,
but something is missing,
a void begins to form,
like a black hole,
kicking up space dust,
forming a object is nothing,
and dropping it back down on the floor,
yet when i look,
something is missing,
don't ask me what,
don't ask me why,
but in the end,
something is missing.