Those Who Live Alone, Die Alone

I think one day I saw myself,
Walking down the side of a road.
If I remember correctly, it was late in the night,
Most of what I remember was the cold.

I saw the tears roll down my face,
More than one at a time.
I couldn't stop moving my legs, not from where I was,
But if I could would I really have? Or continue my sinly crime?

I knew I wouln't have turned around,
Even if I could.
I also knew I might not be seen by any sets of eyes,
And my set may die so soon.

But the scary part was not the death, nor the never turning around.
The scary part was the cold hard truth, that I really just didn't care.
I didn't care if I died that night, on the side of that lonely road,
A part of me really just wanted to, to die alone right there.

And if I could I really would have,
But I quickly lost my chance.
For just as I was to die alone, watching my body from outside of it,
I was not alone anymore.

And at the moment I was alone no more,
My body was back in one,
But the tears didn't stop, they flowed more than before,
And I was taken home, and my chance of a lonely death, was gone...

Author's Note

This is the first poem I've written in a long time, and I'm sad to say it is a true story. But I hope I got a good piece of work from it anyhow, please leave comments.

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[Samuel Dickens]

Many have gone through dark periods but somehow came out the other side. Your purpose in this world may not yet be known, but this tells me that there is one.