Have you ever felt alone in a crowded room?
Been surrounded by friends and lovers,
but yet an emptiness still sits in your chest?
Have you ever laughed, or smiled,
but felt the tears well up when you close your eyes?
Have you ever felt isolated,
while the whole room is held together?
Forgotten about and taken away
to a place where your heart knows some companionship?
Flicking out the ashes of your cigarette,
knowing each breath might be your last?
Have you ever listened to the sympathy,
but retained none of it?
Your mind remains blank and distorted.
The pain of past problems and demands
rises to the surface bringing new sorrows.
So you sit, writing out a new poem or story,
trying to figure out what's going wrong.
Where you went wrong.
Everything is always wrong.