You say I'm not alone, but what do
you know about the state of my being
alone? You don't know about the
empty hallways that litter my head.
You don't know about the quiet nights
with no one to talk to but the one I hate
the most. Okay, so maybe I'm not alone,
surrounded by uninvited, unwanted
company. Closets filled with skeletal
pasts and halls haunted by ghosts
whisper in my ears, trying to convince me
that the demons are the kind of friends
I need. I have right to say I'm still
alone because they are a part of
me, my own company, talking to
my poems attempting to keep myself
sane.
