There's a saying that goes ,'you can feel lonely, but you're never alone.'
Evidence of which, I am yet to be shown.
For I am a loner, lonely, lonesome, a solitary sole.
I'm the molecule of space dust drifting towards a black hole.
I'm the kid that's lost in the middle of the fun-fair,
The balloon he's lost his grip on, floating into the air.
It's self inflicted though, it's an art, a skill.
98 pages in my phone book, 97 yet to fill.
So many people on this planet, how is this possible?
To connect with nobody is surely impossible?
I did have friends once, I wasn't always this way.
My life wasn't always so bleak, so grim, so grey.
I dismissed, ignored and hurt, one by one, year by year.
The realization suddenly hits. Oh what have I done? Oh crap. Oh dear.
This is no art, no skill, no talent. It's a curse, a f**king flaw.
I begin to feel anger and fear as loneliness tightens its claw.
I feel sick, want someone to comfort me, tell me it's okay.
Must I face this shit day after day after day........?
It hurts now as the sharpness rips through my flesh. The pain.
Will I ever share cheer or bliss or joy again?
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