This house is desolate, surrounded by urban sprawl,
I’ve built this castle up, and gave it high walls,
Since you left, everything seems grey,
Skies are dismal and bleak, every single day.
No one else can breach the tower I’ve locked myself in
Not even the ruckus of the world can stir the emotion within
I sit and stare at glass walls, in hollow halls
Once filled with joys and wondrous calls
They would echo all day and night, now exists only silence
I’ve made solitude into a great art and science
I’ve perfected it’s study and long for a change of heart
It’s never so simple when you lose an integral part
of your soul, to the depths of loathing and pettiness.
Words exchanged spitefully end in bitterness.
I wish you the best from this desolate house I’ve built
Solitude is my only company, isn’t that ironic?