Strife

Emptiness can rush in so quickly,
Like a tsunami after earthquake,
Leaving all you ever did, meaningless,
So that your heart breaks,

And the cause is as mysterious,
As how the Monarch knows to fly south,
In search of that honeysuckle,
When three generations have done something else.

But that emptiness is nothing more,
Than a product of your mind,
For someone else in the exact same place,
May have much more value to find.

So, though it's alright,
To put the blame on your life,
That is a choice, like all else,
And does not reflect true source of your strife.