Sep 2015
It’s a person sitting next to me
A shadow lingering close by
Following me around
It’s a soul I know by heart
Every inch, but somehow I still don’t
Know a single thing
It’s a thorn I found, or made
Amongst other people’s roses
I never bothered to touch it
It mocks me sometimes,
When it gets tired of my sadness
When I feel alone in a crowd
It has now become a friend
I’ve learned and grown to like it
I embrace its cold comforting arms
And somehow, this peculiar soul
It has taught me to love
Solitariness, and myself.
A shadow lingering close by
Following me around
It’s a soul I know by heart
Every inch, but somehow I still don’t
Know a single thing
It’s a thorn I found, or made
Amongst other people’s roses
I never bothered to touch it
It mocks me sometimes,
When it gets tired of my sadness
When I feel alone in a crowd
It has now become a friend
I’ve learned and grown to like it
I embrace its cold comforting arms
And somehow, this peculiar soul
It has taught me to love
Solitariness, and myself.
So I read a post on Humans of New York (one of my favourite sites/pages), and this girl was talking about loneliness, and how it's like a person 'always sitting next to her', and how she had grown to like it. This poem was inspired by that post, because I found her story to be beautiful :)
