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Alyanne Cooper Jul 2014
Surrounded by people
Who've known me all my life
And yet not labeled "my family",
I can't help but feel alone.
Though we laugh and cavort
In companionable glee
The fact that they don't know
The unmasked me
Saddens my hermit-yet-lonely heart.
I can sit alone in a full room
And feel the same as if it were empty
For the level of empathy,
Understanding, and knowing
Never changes, never grows.
It stays at zero zero point zero.
Like the monotone screech
Of a lifeless heart on the monitor
Never fluctuating up or down,
I sit here unknown, unconnected,
Alone.
nichole r Jun 2014
do they wonder about who I am
about who I was
about who I could be?
or am I just a face?
trapped in the cage that is society
with no known key to fit the lock.
CP May 2014
I'm afraid

I'm afraid of being betrayed
By those who I love
So I stand in the shade
I dream of
Better days, unafraid,
Of being dismayed

I'm afraid of being alone
The grey unknown
Has been shown
The darkness is now my throne
My isolation is my crown
It rests upon my brow
I've become a clown

I'm afraid of my self
I sit alone on a shelf
Collecting dust
I want to combust
Who do I even trust?

My fears have moulded to my skin
Each inhale
Can cause me to derail

                                  My tale has made me pale
                                  For my fears are like a veil
                                    I have made my own jail
Joe Haydon Mar 2014
Bored bored bored bored bored.
Here I am again. Same seat, same computer, same segregation from the rest of my working world. My face is open with a desire to help. The expression is real - I do want to help - any interaction is welcome. But as time ticks by the smile grows vacant, eventually freezing to a rictus.
People pass me, unaware.
Hundreds - well over a thousand.
The odd nod of acknowledgement and a few genuine requests for help keep the monotony at bay. But the steady stream slows to a trickle, and my smile dies with it.

Everybody is different. From the moment of conception to the dying breath - no two lives are alike.
But in crowds individuality takes a knock. Some are lovely, some are friendly, some are *****. Most are oblivious, blinkered into their own world or lost in the collective one - made nervous by the proximity to so many others.
Like sheep.

The worst they can really do is ignore me - at least the odd rude one is entertaining. Nine times out of ten I'm surplus to requirements, but I thank my lucky stars I'm not dealing with their empty bellies. There's something about buying food that brings out the very worst in people.

For me though, it's not the people. People are just people - the world over. It's the monotony that sinks my spirits and sabotages my smile.
But all is not doom and gloom.
Sadly it's not my colleagues that lift my spirits  on these long lonely nights - I barely see anyone. It's not even the computer that sits in front of me - with its world wide web of ones and zeroes encoding the entirety of human knowledge - it only really serves to change the boredom from upper case to lower.
What lifts my spirits is the view. The arc'd metal icons that span the silvery snake of the river from bank to bank. The fiery sunset echoing the shape of the bridges, it's light catching the shimmering water and exploding in every shade, glittering from red to gold.
Some things never grow old.
I'm not sure this is a poem - more of a musing or reflection.
But I thought someone might like to read it.

— The End —