No one, no one here, no one there, ever.
Uncared for, it felt dark and misty.
All alone, aside seven billion souls.
Needed only when needed, a solitude.
Ring-fenced in an imaginary world of love.
No escape for me to my reality, it hurts.
Kept knocking on the walls, for affection.
Wisely I tethered on, purposely off, living in a solstice of dream.
A prose about living. Dreams and imaginations play a role in solitude. Anyone can be whatever therein. No one judging you; so play on.
