Poem 4/30/14 "Now I think I remember why I stopped writing poems"

Goals and dreams-not for me
Fame and fortune-I don't desire much things
I have what I need
Except that I don't have the "need".
The desire to breathe
This void in my heart, soul, mind, and body
Cannot be filled with things and money
I often ponder if I am loved enough ?
Then again-am I being loved too much ?
This void in which echoes my heartbeats-
The darkness that once haunted me-
Embraced. And let go.
And for what ?
Nothing's wrong.
Red roses, red roses, and baby's breath-
This void of mine can only be filled in by death.
This void grows.
Consuming my mind, body, and soul.