#broken solitude

Alone, alone, Again all by myself, My knicks and knacks with cricks and cracks Strewn drearily about the shelf Above my bed.   This is no comfort zone– No days can pass without tears being shed. The murky puddle at my feet Grows larger as my sorrow deepens, Whilst I, rolled in my sheets, Stare blankly at the gloomy walls,  Striving against the thralls of sleep For fear that I might drown. Pain wracks me to the bone! The prickly eiderdown That perforates the blanket scars my skin; My tattered heart bleeds purple With three horrendous wounds, Septic from the sheer chagrin Of always being opened With never any chance to heal.   A life well seems on loan– For but a while we’re at the wheel, Cruising through uncertainty ’Til we be cast into eternity. Our blind desires may often lead, And stray us from the rugged course In search of smoother land. Yet with remorse on burning sand We find ourselves lost and alone At the hefty cost Of having nothing that we need.   I threw it all away. And though I much believe in yesterday, I’ll never hold that happiness once more. And though the sun beyond my window Shines brighter than it has before, This caustic pain shall never wane In solitude.   A life is nothing to be rued, And yet I brood Within the arms of silence.