There is a birthmark on my soul that I call loneliness.
Born with it I must have been and it is not your regular definition.
It is not eradicated by any presence nor does it disappear with love.
No, it is a scar from somewhere unbeknownst to me
And this blemish I carry leaves me in such an agony
That I can only describe as being slowly eaten alive.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 6:26 AM UTC
There is a birthmark on my soul that I call loneliness.
Born with it I must have been and it is not your regular definition.
It is not eradicated by any presence nor does it disappear with love.
No, it is a scar from somewhere unbeknownst to me
And this blemish I carry leaves me in such an agony
That I can only describe as being slowly eaten alive.
Random suffering. Out of nowhere, for no reason at all I cry my heart out.
