Isolation

It is not a choice I have made.
More, it is a bore upon my back
and makes me to hunch over and
Not buckle under the strain.

Eyes to the ground.
They are the windows to an
Ever aging being that has seen
Too much or perhaps
Not enough at all.

Best you not to look in them,
Or be cast into stone
From a hollow gaze.
It is best that I not stare.

I sit on the fringes looking at
What appears to be
Normality.
I wonder what that might feel like.
To laugh loudly

To yell or speak Eloquently
To whisper in a lovers ear
Or to scream out an Insanity

No matter.
These things are kept inside.
It was not by nature that I should
keep company or host parties.

It is not that I would rather
walk out into a chilled wilderness,
Through Icy winds and freeze.
I am cold enough already.

It is the inner self that has yet to
Thaw and leave me raw,
That has left me
Alone.

Reviews

[Bianca]

Oh this is ...exquisite. I would say beautiful but I'm trying to learn more descriptive words. I love this poem, I really do. It hit home since I'm working on a book based one lonerism myself... Looks like I have o step up my game or else my dream of making that book will be stolen.