Split Sides

Solitude Sam

He's a strange being, this person

Who lives in a cocoon, away from everything.

Of the strangeness from outside.

No, he's not a wise old hermit

Though he fancies himself to be such.

He thinks he resides in a castle

High up like an aristocrat

When in fact he lives in a cave

Minus the nomadic soliloquies.

Lost in his books and picture shows

He creates a bubble of imaginings

Dreaming of traces of mankind

In some noble journey or something.

But unlike them, he is far from noble.

More of a coward, hiding in his high tower

Than some grand old philosopher

With the pollen of revelations ready to be spread.

He observes the populace around him

Blithely in their worlds, binding them together

Yet he stands, unfettered and remote,

His walls as bare as the happiness in his mind.

Must be the fortress mentality

Keeping him alive and surviving,

Or his unshakable belief that

The strong man is strongest alone.

His pride, his downfall.

His weakness, his consolation,

As he minds his own affairs

Away from the world that could have

Given him a way out his cave if only

It had a compelling reason to offer him.