Lonely is a statue in a room
of movement, I'm static in loneliness.
The collection of others looks onwards.

My smiles static on the reflections
gazing in my heart. Never showing
others the loneliness woven inside.

I want to be more than a ornament
in a room of life. Finding it hard
to breath in a room I'm drowning within.

Why cant I be the flower that radiates
instead of the crystal rose, whose petals
never glisten in colourful  hues of life.