She Follows the Birds to Freedom

Alone

It's hard being lonely.
Even when you've felt that way for so long,
it's hard to see people with people
and wish to belong.
I've been lonely my whole life,
Unlucky in friendships and totally missed
the boat that carried love.
But I'm used to it, the silence,
the hollow emptiness
that fills my room everyday,
the company of only my thoughts
no one to share them with,
I go through life and people think I'm okay.
That is my own fault
for not proving them wrong,
but still most people think I'm okay because they don't care to know otherwise.
It don't usually have a pity party, I've learned to live with loneliness, we've become a sort of necessary friend to one another,
I talk and loneliness listens,
I'm always met with a ringing in my ears
that reminds me there is no one here
but me.
And all the while the moonlight glistens
off my window while I tell telepathically
tell my pillow what happened
in the hours of sunlight.
Every now and then I realize
that the name of shimmering moon
and the ringing tune in my head
is the ache of being alone,
and I get sad.
I know I'll be fine but...
I suppose I wish I could tell someone who could understand.
Not one person who I am close to can understand.
So I go on with life as planned
and push down the feeling knowing
that lingering will bring no meaning
or make a difference.
It's such a horrible existence sometimes.
It makes me jealous to see the assurance
in someone else's eyes
that their back is covered.
My back has scars on it.
And every now and then they hurt.
SK