But Nothing Happens

Another Tuesday, same old room. The blinds are shut, the lights stay off. I sit and wait for something new— But nothing happens. I scroll and click and waste the day, Look for a sign, a reason, hope. I tell myself I'll change someday— But nothing happens. I make the plans, I set the goals, I build them up inside my head. I talk a big game, lose my soul— But nothing happens. The weeks go by, then months, the years, The clock keeps ticking, still I stall. I face my fears, then disappear— But nothing happens. Maybe tomorrow, I'll begin. Maybe tomorrow, I'll be free. But deep down now, I know the end— But nothing happens. Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing Nothing

A man in an orange jacket sits in a dark room surrounded by several cartoon figures while holding a diagram filled with the word “Nothing.” The poem describes procrastination, isolation, and repeatedly promising to change without taking action. It is used as a bleakly humorous reaction to stagnation, wasted time, and the feeling that nothing in life is changing. EN: A man in an orange jacket sits in a dark room surrounded by several cartoon figures while holding a diagram filled with the word “Nothing.” The poem describes procrastination, isolation, and repeatedly promising to change without taking action. It is used as a bleakly humorous reaction to stagnation, wasted time, and the feeling that nothing in life is changing.

• @eternalclassic / 90343 2026-06-28