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Garth Lebowski Nov 2015
Sapphire drops of moonlight bounced off her umbrella and a cool, smoky mist escaped her crimson lips every once and so often.There she stood alone, on a loud, bright and miserable winters’ night. Pensively gazing over the glistening city streets before her.

Echoes of light gleamed from the windows of bars and cafes. Reflections of lover’s kisses melted in a cold November rain. Live music, laughter, conversation! O what a cheerful sight is the city at night, for all but one this evening.

Such striking acts of delight and love did nothing but depress her.

This loner longs to stand with the pack and live her life, instead of merely existing. She is the Steppenwolf of her time. Unwanted and alone. And much like the original Steppenwolf, she gives and cares for others very much like family. Alas, despite her best efforts, she could never fit in.

And perhaps, never will.
The one who follows the crowd, will usually get no further than the crowd. The one who walks alone, is likely to find himself in places no one has ever been.

-Albert Einstein
bouhaouel zeineb Oct 2015
A lone wolf, that’s what I’ve always been
Walking alone in the shadows
Forever in the dark afraid to be seen
Seeking friendship from the glowing stars
I'm in that point of my life where I look at pictures of childhood friends and my heart can't feel but feel like its shattering piece by piece knowing this person was your best friend the one person you went to when you needed a smile the one that knew you more then your own parents knowing all the fun times you had the times you seen each other cry and now there nothing but a beautiful memory in a photo album
Meg B Apr 2014
A lone wolf;
Solitary soldier.
Too comfortable you have become
stumbling down a path
for one.

Blinded by
eyes closed
to the world that truly lays
beyond
your chosen screen
of wool
woven, cross-stitched with
Denial.

Hands you refuse to hold
as you boldly
trek
down the dusty trail;
howling out silently
so no one may hear.

Sporting a
mask
made
of self-loathing
and fear,
vulnerability the
enemy you choose to slay,
for surrendering to
a state of
naked, raw
passion
seems more frightening
than the darkest dungeon,
stormiest night.

Gulping down
another shot
of loneliness on the rocks,
not even a splash
of soda,
for you like the way it burns.
Inhale solidarity,
snorting your
line
after
line
of
self-destruction,
acidic dispelling of
feelings
chosen not to be felt.

Sometimes, though,
in the quietest of the night,
sitting on the lip of a deep
substance-induced-slumber,
you may whisper
in a tone you would hate
to be called sweet,
and the mask comes off;

till 2 PM,
waking and at it again,
alone, a lone wolf
howls
at emotional
sobriety
and takes another
drink.

— The End —