When you are alone
you can pick a bone
with any thing inside your head,
till the day you are dead.
Go over it again and again ,
till you go insane.
picking a bone,
you understand what it means,
when it enters your head,
to bandy,
to chew at,
bicker,
hassle,
rehash,
to bump heads,
with whatever enters your head.
.
A crazy dream
interpreting it to reams.
A crush gone wild
fantasizing till you smile,
your eyes foolishly beguiled.
While the world outside,
goes on chugging along.
You lost in a world,
mind fully blurred.
A lost friend,
you misunderstood,
not a day goes by , you do not brood.
Times you could have been nice,
now realize after paying the price.
The list goes on ,
the regrets and threats,
goals not met,
shores not touched,
hearts you bluffed,
yourself you hurt,
the pain and the smiles,
will go with you many miles.
.
Always a bone to pick,
or picking a bone,
whatever, whichever way you see,
is a great need,
to be done indeed,
Human foibles,
will never let us be free,
from our own misdeeds.
YOU ARE READING
Alone
PoetryBeing alone is the silent journey to the inner self...where no one holds sway except oneself.... A collection of poems seeking to understand this intrinsic state of the mind and soul..... The beginning and the end....