Empty Poem by Lord Jet

The poetic pessimist,
scrawling these soliloquies onto a piece of parchment extracted from my conscious
im using these outspoken thoughts as an impervious shield in times of peril
gathering courage, but my shield is diminishing, waning on my hubris
crippled by the reality of this world, i seek solitude
awkwardly, ineptly, clumsily manifesting my existence during this isolation with my poetry
putting my soul into these compositions, committing seppuku and allowing my life fluids to flow onto my work, bringing them to life
they now have an existence of their own, microcosms created by a greater microcosm
i can now be proud of my work, but yet i still feel empty