Silence, solitude and serenity.
Sometimes, I like it when it’s only me.
Feelings of immense content and comfort.
When it’s only me, I cannot get hurt.

In times of good, and in times of pain,
Only one person can keep me sane.
No one to lean on, and nowhere to go.
To get me through the highs and lows.

I am scared at how I feel this so.
I’m scared of what lies deep below.
Within me, I have a desire to change.
Yet, this feeling is so foreign and strange.

For so many years, I’ve been alone.
Quite frankly, it’s all I’ve ever known.
To allow another to enter my life…
Well, I fear that would bring me great strife.

For I’ve walked alone for so long.
Anything else would feel just wrong.
I have strength in myself, indeed I am strong.
Yet, I’m not quite sure where I belong.

To entrust my life to another soul,
My heart would surely take its toll.
For loneliness is sorely confused.
With a heart that’s simply broken and bruised.

Being alone is not a blessing nor a curse.
Simply a fear of something much worse.
That being alone is all that I foresee.
At sea, only me, under a willow tree.