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Sleepz Dec 2013
Today my son told me he wanted to be like me when he grows up
so i slapped him across the face,
I told him you better get your **** straight son,
you try to be like me you're gon' end up a ***.
No one could be like me not even you,
I told the same thing to your ***** *** brother,
and as for your mother she be askin' me for money all the time,
i know im a rich *** guy but that don't mean i'd waste a dime for her,
Your uncle lied about the way she died i ****** stuffed her ***** *** in the
trunk of the mercedes and left her there for 10 days,
it was only supposed to be a week but then the next three  i thought
she could ressurect just like Jesus did,
Turned out she didn't cause i didn't hear no banging but than again i never checked,
Don't be a wreck like your ******' uncle Johnny who tried defending her and
they both ended up in a train on their way to San Francisco,
That's right why you think no ******' cops came you see what im saying,
i'm teaching you how to be tough and rough like your dad,
Don't be a little sissie like your little brother Stan who joined the ****
just so he would be a part of something,
Let me tell you something bout' your grandpa Ronnie he's always grumpy for nothing.
If you look at my eyes im a ****** son,
I think it's fun to wrap chains around people's necks and tie em' to the back
of the car,
i know sometimes i take it too far but that man at the gasoline station
thought he could take me down and make me look like a clown,
the sound of that just makes my nerves tingle and not a single person
has ever had the ***** to tell me some stupid **** like that,
so grabbed him like rat and hit his legs with the bat till' they break,
you need to know both our life's are at steak every turn we take,
There's no hesitating and don't you ever run away,
always pay attention to the people who got something to say,
I tell people that I missed you that day,
when you were gon' i couldn't say goodbye,
But thats what happens when Daddy's ****** working all the time,
All i could do is just sigh and know this is the end of the line,
I'm looking at you now but i can't see your face,
I guess it's pretty hard you'd have to have x-ray vision to see under a grave,
I shave now because i remember how you never liked how my beared looked on me,
Just thinking bout' your death makes me wanna scream,
and now i see myself in this ******' hospital now knowing why im here
or what i ever did wrong,
I'm writing you this song to tell you,
Never be like me cause sadly your daddy is never doing the right thing,
But take care say hi to god for me i hope this letter can get to heaven
so you can see it.
Be happy with your whole family up there cause their dead too with you,
i didn't want you to get lonely.
Now you feel at home and i'm just sitting here all alone.
This poem is inspired by a rap song from Eminem.  
It has it's own personal significance and some people may relate to it.
I thought that saying goodbye,
would be the hardest thing to say to you.
And in a way it was,
but in another it wasn't.
It felt sad; it felt exhilarating.

I thought that love, all kinds,
meant giving you're all to someone.
But it doesn't, it means something more.
It means that you give them a piece
of yourself for them to cherish,
and they do the same.

But you can't give something away,
that doesn't exist.
I didn't understand at first,
but now I do.

I never loved myself,
I loved you.
I used to feel I would die
with joy from being around you.

And then I woke up one morning,
and I realized that I did die.

That the every miniscule piece of who I was,
had ceased to exist.
I realized that I was empty,
and always had been.

So instead of killing myself for your love,
I lived for my own.

And now I drive around,
listening to Tom Petty,
wearing red lipstick;
lips wrapped around the back half of a cigarette..

And I am so happy.

I feel free.
I feel like I can conquer anything,
because I escaped a painful death;
a death by you.

But then it was time to say "Hello again.."
and it was harder than goodbye.
It brang back the memories of sadness.
Of lonliness.
Of being afraid.

Then the moment passed...

*And I still feel free.
Sometimes I wish we would have met today instead.. I think we might have been better to each other.
Mark Boucher May 2012
Tonight, I was made aware of my lonliness,
Or my lonliness was made aware of me,
Either/Or, I'll walk like confidence cause it's all I've got everything to lose,
No one needs to know how this feels,

These words will haunt you...
Your lust will haunt you...
My absence will haunt you...

Like a ghost inside of your head,
Your vanity showed through,
You packed up and started new,
And I'm still here, teary-eyed, and wondering why,
So don't blame me because I'm ******* bitter,
And I'm demanding some answers.

Don't try to fulfill my memory,
Because you are just a memory,
Don't express your love for me,
Because it's something you'll regret,
Don't let yourself feel special,
Because you're just something I'll forget...
Angst has taken over. I'm getting sloppy...
C A Nov 2012
Here I am again
Content with loneliness
Writing riddles to keep track of time
Detaching myself from the reality of emotions
Deep down I know love does not conquer all
I'm naive but I can keep a strait face
Too many arguments of nonsense and jealousy
So I keep everything at a distance
Such a wreck
In a tangled weave of misdirection
I panic at the thought of love
It's for children
It's for hope
It's for co dependancy
But not for me
I'm contenet with lonliness
Lonely girl Aug 2014
i love no one
i am alone
i should sit
lonely on the lawn

i could see two friends
who were sitting close to each others
they were speaking warmly
& singing a song like two birds...

with each sentence they told
i really felt so cold
it was  chilled to the bone
i don't have any person in my life with heart of gold
Lydia Cooper Nov 2012

It’s as stifling as a cold

It makes every bone in your body


Waking up becomes harder

Because I can sleep a little longer

And dream of you;

Falling asleep is harder

Without an arm around you.

Some say they care

And maybe they do

But they care more about whats underneath

The cotton that makes you modest

Some care but they will never tell you

Maybe you don’t seem worth it

A lost cause

A waste of words.
NitaAnn Jul 2014
I had to...
I have to do something.
The lonliness and stress were eating away at me
My hands and heart have been itching to be creative for a while now.
I have not been able to write for weeks.
My head is on over-drive.
I am so stressed/scared/nervous about the tomorrow.
What if it is worse than they thought?
What if something goes wrong?
I kneel before you though you are no God
I give you my shame, lonliness, hopelessness and pain
You take it all with no argument, no hesitation and no judgement

When I kneel before you I feel the world staring down upon me; disappointed and accusitory
What would they say if they saw me in these moments?
The world, friends, family.......what would they say?
I can't stop spending time with you though I have tried

Unfortunately, it only takes a thought
It use to be harder to give it all to you
Forcing myself to bare those things to use to be so hard
Now it is easy! And I hate myself for it.

To keep myself sane, to keep it all inside, I run my tongue across my gums to feel the missing molars, the hole in the bicuspid, the degraded bicuspid and think in my head......
"Fight the urge. Fight the urge. Fight the urge to kneel and purge."

I go silent. I go numb.
I beat it, I hope, at least for today
But, I see you and feel the need to give it all to you
And in that moment I am beautiful, or, at least I hope to be

I made the mistake of listening to society
They told me to be the way they dictate on tv, in magazines, on billboards, and bus signs and newspapers and the radio
I tried because they said it wasn't ok to be me
To just be me
I wasn't enough
Why can't I be enough?

Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts! It's too easy!

I kneel before you though you are no God
I give you my shame, lonliness, hopelessness and pain
You take it all with no arguments no hesitation and no judgement

"Fight the urge. Fight the urge. Fight the urge to kneel and purge."

                                                        ­                      FLUSH!!!!!!!
karma is dead Mar 2014
It feels cold as Ice
But as heavy as a rock
It festures in your heart
It plagues your mind
It binds resentment
To your soul
And makes your insides
black as coal
That feeling of lonliness
We've all felt
And we remember the pain
It has dealt
and the sun weilds mercy
but like a jet torch carried to high,
and the jets whip across its sight
and rockets leap like toads,
and the boys get out the maps
and pin-cuishon the moon,
old green cheese,
no life there but too much on earth:
our unwashed India boys
crosssing their legs,playing pipes,
starving with ****** in bellies,
watching the snakes volute
like beautiful women in the hungry air;
the rockets leap,
the rockets leap like hares,
clearing clump and dog
replacing out-dated bullets;
the Chineses still carve
in jade,quietly stuffing rice
into their hunger, a hunger
a thousand years old,
their muddy rivers moving with fire
and song, barges, houseboats
pushed by drifting poles
of waiting without wanting;
in Turkey they face the East
on their carpets
praying to a purple god
who smokes and laughs
and sticks fingers in their eyes
blinding them, as gods will do;
but the rockets are ready: peace is no longer,
for some reason,precious;
madness drifts like lily pads
on a pond circling senselessly;
the painters paint dipping
their reds and greens and yellows,
poets rhyme their lonliness,
musicians starve as always
and the novelists miss the mark,
but not the pelican , the gull;
pelicans dip and dive, rise,
shaking shocked half-dead
radioactive fish from their beaks;
indeed, indeed, the waters wash
the rocks with slime; and on wall st.
the market staggers like a lost drunk
looking for his key; ah,
this will be a good one,by God:
it will take us back to the
sabre-teeth, the winged monkey
scrabbling in pits over bits
of helmet, instrument and glass;
a lightning crashes across
the window and in a million rooms
lovers lie entwined and lost
and sick as peace;
the sky still breaks red and orange for the
painters-and for the lovers,
flowers open as they always have
opened but covered with thin dust
of rocket fuel and mushrooms,
poison mushrooms; it's a bad time,
a dog-sick time-curtain
act 3, standing room only,
by god,by somebody and something,
by rockets and generals and
leaders, by poets , doctors, comedians,
by manufacturers of soup
and biscuits, Janus-faced hucksters
of their own indexerity;
I can now see now the coal-slick
contanminated fields, a snail or 2,
bile, obsidian, a fish or 3
in the shallows, an obloquy of our
source and our sight.....
has this happend before? is history
a circle that catches itself by the tail,
a dream, a nightmare,
a general's dream, a presidents dream,
a dictators dream...
can't we awaken?
or are the forces of life greater than we are?
can't we awaken? must we foever,
dear freinds, die in our sleep?
Astral May 2015
I awoke one morning to see the rain pouring softly, a mist against my window

I looked outside and not a sound to be heard, the birds were not conducting their melodies, the wind not writing its poems among the trees

Every soul seemed to be gone, I looked to my mailbox and not a single letter, I looked to my friends and none would answer

The same for my parents, and all my mutuals, it seems I was all alone

Did I do something wrong to have caused this rapture? The silence was deafening to my mind

I’m not sure what has caused all of this, but I guess I’ve become king of lonliness, and I sit and look at my empty kingdom
Westley Barnes Jun 2012
A Few lines etched where no words give weight.

Good riddance say the veterans
Of a nation gone sour with grief
Like a lemon slice evaporating onto the tongue of the sick.
But when the young yearn for White Nights,
The old claim they are blinding lights to the cold sugary substance
That supplants an easy path.
The bullithole rush of renewal and lonliness and progress thwarted and abandoned,
Inertia seeping through
Into a cold summer's day.

Between the cursing slant of sleek paved roadstrips,
And the burning briars that thresh the border's haunt,
What is picture postcard emerald
Is in that same instance soviet architect gray.

These are the sleepers bereft of the dream
whose twenty-five stories high
or ghost estates
are domes to cast out the howling banshees,those suffrage of the real
to be re-thought as mere props which surround the haloed glowing screen.

So sheen the Motherland glows in untarnished eyes
Familiar solely with glass behemoths parading with their reflections
In grey water-drizzled streets,
Only to be replaced by iridescent rainbows that foster a hope.
A hope that was packaged and sold two decades back
Since it was not worth carrying into the New World.

The water-trough delving where the electric line banishes,connects a spike,
"rejuvenate the breakfast table"-some far-off God reports, Hades still waiting,
Intel-chip Blue, epiphany at the gates.
This poem is a collaboration between Russian-American poet Mariya Timovskey and Irish poet Westley Barnes,reflecting their respective cultural landsacpes and cultural antagonisms.Each writer contributed lies in response to each other's work using their own individual style.The result is a collage of both appraoches to their subject matter.
Mary Gay Kearns Dec 2018
The Lonliness of that road
Leading to a point
Ending in finality
Finishing quite frank.

It is green and far to be seen
Closed equilateral triangle
Destination, deciduous
Leaf, never to regrow.

Love Mary **
jeffrey robin Aug 2010
are we so this the very day
that holds together all of creation?

wonderous sight!...eachother!
freely coming unto what we know to call
"the sacred door"

weeping and moaning in sheer lonliness
hating our abusing friends
who we then so gladly abuse
thankful for "justification"

we stomp our own poor face by face
we'd re-lynch negros if we could
get the rag heads YES WE CAN...HURRAY!
while the deadly oil spill


we hate our lovers from the day we meet
and when he's gone
we want him back again!

so very unloved
but wait!
when a true friend appears
we just call him "nerd" or "geek"

lonley loveless
yet so safe

from the overwhelming reality

loving to be unloved
the power trip that never fades away
Zyborg May 2010
A creepy crawling snake
wrapped around a twig
slithering its way
up the rotten branch
remnants of a tree trunk
after termites had there way
the branch snaps
the snake falls down
creepy crawly snake
the vicious venomous snake
it is hurt and it is hurt bad
oh please will no one help it
It tosses in agony
poor helpless snake
everyone is scared of it
yet all it wants
is not to be alone just then
Tommy Randell Oct 2018
I grew up in the loneliness of one hundred streets
The more poems I wrote the more I'd get beat
The rare times were few but I wrote them down
Poetry as confession in a lonely town

I'm no Leonard Cohen, I am no Rod McKuen
And so far any talent remains unproven
But from those streets I have lived my Rhyme
A Journeyman Poet stride by stride

In the World streets have doubled now, in number and size
But I hope Poetry is no stranger in our lives
It's the 21st Century, let's put our Art on the breeze
Giving voice to the vow in our words there is Unity
My Town is about 240 streets now (2018) but back in the 1950's it was only just 100 (give or take a few). A small-minded small town on the North East Coast of England where being 'different' wasn't always a good thing to be... especially for a young lad who wrote poetry.
Ana Sofia Apr 2012
you sleep alone tonight
the round circles of your arms which normally hold me
closed - for the season
winter has reached this bed

your broad back faces me
a barrier I cannot breach
the muscular companion to that of your guarded heart.
you say,
it is your only heart

you whimper, like a child
a weak protest
I know that what clouds your thoughts in sleep is saturated
the depthless blue of lonliness and pain. you'll never tell.
I want to comfort you, smooth away the dark wrinkles that plague your sleep...
my touch is not welcome consolation

you sleep alone tonight.
Jon Tobias Feb 2012
The wind rushes the sound of
Horse powered hurricanes into his ears

He is silent as he drives to the beach
He is silent on the pier

He purposely gets himself lost sometimes
Tries to remember he parked his car at a nearby Denny’s

The boats bob helpless
But safe with their tethers

He eats a hamburger that he buys for 2 dollars
While walking by a company fundraiser for heart health

The man standing over the barbeque asked him if he was hungry
Neither said much else to the other

He eats slowly
Drinks slowly
Understands that everything happens slow when he is lonely

He characterizes himself through sighs that all say
Yeah I guess I should go now

He knows he shouldn’t be here
As if the salt air might rust his moving parts

But he sits on a bench eating a burger
And in his own silence creates osmosis
A space around his head so his thoughts dilute themselves
somewhere else

He plans on leaving them there
He thinks how this is an oil change for his soul
So he can slide back into his daily grind enough
To keep his pistons cool

How some days he needs the noise so much
He becomes obnoxious for laughter
And hungry for laughter’s love

He drives home perfectly empty

Gets lost along the way

Thinks about what it truly means for him to go home

Thinks he should have been there hours ago

Thinks of what it actually means to be better

And says to himself
People are never really lost
As much as they are
Arriving where they need to be
*Just a little late
Written on my phone from somewhere in San Diego.
Shari Forman Dec 2013
The reason why I'm not happy,
Is that I feel I have nothing to look forward to anymore.
Melody Dec 2011
You cannot fly,

You're just a mere human..

You get wings when you die..

Stop jumping like a wingless bird..

And stand on your feet like a human should..

I am not scared..

So dear white doves..

I wonder if they can reach to tell the Full Moon my..

Lonliness and fright..
JL Mar 2012
Its swallowed me whole the blackness of it all. The winding roads of your heart. The drop and rise of your voice
Like butter
Like jam
Like honey

You smoke your cigarette on the porch of your rusted **** trailer
Curled up with your chin on your knees
In a broken spray painted plastic chair
Your veins run blue
A dark evening in which
The orange cherry glow around your lips cast shadows on the wall

I don't understand why I love you
When I hardly know you
Your black hair
Soft skin

The torn siding taps on the wall
The cool wind through the porch
The wind chimes make beautiful songs
As you blow smoke in constant notes of sadness

Surrounded on three sides by dark mist covered mountains
7 country miles to the nearest person

My head spins
As the old warmth grows from my stomach
You have so many empty pill bottles poking up from your purse

You sit quiet as you begin to float off this broken porch
Out into that cool night of nowhere
Her green eyes glow bright
Outshining the naked sixty watt bulb on the wall
Moths circle
And bump against the warmth

I never want to leave you
As you put up your hair
As the truck turns to rust in the yard

But you know
That I know I'm nothing special
And you have plans that don't have room for me

Southern Belle
With a head full of dreams
Your skin smells like fresh cut birch bark
Your hair like a warm summer night

*"You know
It gets beautiful around here
Once spring is in full swing
I was hoping you would at least stay til then"
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
It's just that. Thirty pounds of weakness. A hard-sided steel briefcase with the black leather-strapped handle. It's that reiki healer I don't believe in, and the rocks that have names. I don't believe it anymore. I am stranded on a pylon, the world spinning beside me, the palm trees gushing blood onto the oedipal sand beaches. It's your brother Thomas ******* the curls in my chest hair while I'm walking to get a glass of tap water, we're face to face and he's touching my wiry curls and your juices and kisses are still on face. I don't believe him. The porch door is open, I can see halfway around the city from here, the lemon tree is serving ugly fruit, I turn off the hallway light and shuffle my feet like a child, never taking them off of the white curd carpet while I head back to the bedroom. I don't believe it, you told me I had the voice of your Uncle who touched you, who you blew when you were two. You said you could feel my shadow coming up the hallway but were too afraid to lock the door. I made whispers loud enough for you to hear about all the hole love I had for you. I don't believe it's been five years and I'm still typing and timing my meals to schedules in sentiment that haven't existed for months upon months over months.

I was in the bathroom, serrating my skin with a nail file. Sneaking phone numbers from the Holz-licker's phone. He's quieter than normal. I sent threats abroad, Europe first, the Eastern block, then Russia, two to New Zealand, one to South Africa, I met you in the car and asked about Nick and the swing set. No one could give me a straight ******* answer. I don't believe it, it's 12 hours later, and even Princess ****** can't put me to sleep, I know nighttime like I was studying it, hitchhiking the darkness with my thumb turned outward. I hate every part of what I have become. I could drown myself in the shower, breathe in the water and feel as it sharply shoots through my lungs, my tummy, and through the ventricles of my heart. I don't believe how much I've written and the hell I've written about. I should **** him, just for his indifference, just to rule out a single number. A prime number. The uneven oddity about it, slovenly and chaotic. I made a silver drop for your sister and one for you too. Nothing came of it, nothing comes. 30 pounds I wait, I'm weighted down to my trunk. I want coffee, I want tea, I want biscuits for breakfast, I want certainty. I make the wolves that follow, you're the chase that I'm running in. You are the footsteps and deep breaths I don't believe in, I am unsettled by us standing still. And while you usher my standard bones. And while you curtail my excellent surprise. I will be the one disbelieving your appeal, the one peeling back your eyeballs dry. Not that I wanted, I waned, I wooed each every other fellow through- but inside my needle, heaped atop my bed, are the locks of gold I entombed you in. I drank the black dragon blood of the heavy metal christ. I still don't believe that just because I killed you it means that you've died.
The rain pours heavily
Drowning out all sound
Except your heartbeat
In my memories.
anonymous Oct 2014
We think we're alone,
But we only have to look around,
And we're just like everyone else.

Typical, sad teenagers,
Aware it's generic yet it feels so personal,
Driving our insecurities more and more.

And I don't know which would be worse,
To be so alone,
Or to mean nothing at all.
Kristine Apr 2011
This is not loneliness.
This is alone.

This is solitary solitude
Singular and redundant.

It is not sad
nor is it content.
This just is.

It is the ability to talk
but never say.
The ability to touch
but not feel.

This is not anything bad.
This just is.
Always Ally Jun 2016
Oh Moon, oh goddess;
why do you weep?
I know too well of your lonliness.
I know too well about the darkness that surrounds you.

Little light lingers from the end of a day.
The same light that approaches you.
It shuns you, pushes you away.

You believe nobody sees you, but
I know many who admire your
shimmery shine.
Plenty look to your silent beauty.

Oh how the stars are yours and nobody else's.
For they are just as dazzling;
yet you outshine them all.
The glimmer even at a glance of a sliver of you
is enough to allow a decadent sigh.
Bellis Tart Feb 2011
sitting here alone
I know I do not want to be
living on my own
with no one here but me
you don't realize what talking
to another living being does
to keep you from walking
over the edge of the world that never was
it's hard to say just what it'd mean
to simply hear someones voice
to wake me out of this starkly quite dream
to fill this room with noise
(c) 21/02/11
Ariel G Jul 2013
I am she.
I am her.
I am the one you hate.
The ****,
The homewrecker,
the other woman.
It doesn’t matter if
the home was already in ruins
or if his hands wandered first,
the audience hates me.
How could i come between Love like that?
but after four years of wondering
and two wandering lonely hearts
and not too much sleep...
there are worse things to happen
at 4 AM in a stranger’s bed.
and his hands were oh so gentle,
perfect bumbling fools
they knew what we didn’t know
we both wanted
a beckoning nose
was all i knew and then
it was lips
and peach fuzz stubble
and sloppy tongues
and we were both thinking of her
tasting each other’s almost morning breath
both mourning your still-breathing love
my empathy hurt me
i’m sorry
i’m sorry
i’m sorry
i’m sorry
i’m sorry
we were alone on a bed and
so so lonely
curiosity and lonliness
cuddling and impulse

I’ve heard a kiss is just a kiss
but i’ve also heard that’s what fools say
we’re not fools
but we could be.
Vinay Kr Jun 2015
Aloneness is ecstasy,
Aloneness is bliss,
Lonliness is aloneness misunderstood.
The sink clogged, with the hair I'm pulling out.
The deranged dripping of the pipes on the veneer...
A marvel.
To see what people will do to feel like they have some sense of control...

The window sill,
covered in dust, paint chips, mold,
The carcasses of dead flies...
There is an exquisite beauty to lonliness.

It's something relatable.
A way of being that is attainable, but unwanted.
It's just like this day,  
unwanted by all.

Some may though; want it.
Perhaps they are simply afflicted,
In need of a shoulder for their worries
and a day to hold them.

I don't think they would rip their hair out to do so.
Not like me.
Who cares?

I'll just watch now,
as the blood drips down the sink,
on the day they all needed,
when the pipes burst and dripped the mudded water
onto the the fresh veneer...
Written Nov. 2011.
Kody dibble Sep 2015
Same as yesterday,
A ruthless beg at the morrow,
For trees and colors of light,
That stream through murdered pasts,

Twlight breathe,
Of longer passions,

Vertigo isolation,
She's running the mill,
She's always so cold,

A scheme against the day's blight,
A force of lonliness,

Maybe treason and reason,
collide like intentions
prevent the confiding belief,
A surprise
Jeffrey Robin Jul 2016

of the poet !!!!!!!



That's where the psychopaths live!


we  are united by


( this the only truth


The rest are mere pretenders


Instead of


wallow in the GARBAGE CITY

at our feet !

Marty Mar 2018
It is in this room full of souls
That I lie alone in the dark
It is in this room full of love
That that I feel nothing but

Velvety roses, bathed in a crimson flow
Still, I lie alone in the dark
Blurry eyes, endless weeping, and broken hearts
And my soul feels nothing just

Empty heart never to be hurt again
Still, I lie alone in the dark
Sanguine rivers turn to powdery dust
And the eyes show nothing but

Final goodbyes and fresh earth
And finally I'm alone
Nothing but memories and broken hearts
jeffrey robin Dec 2013
Would that YOU would live!


Lonliness kills


(how we **** eachother so !)


Will SOMEONE please be one with god

It's not so hard to figure it all out you know




What a ******* stupid way for a world to die


God ain't goin down with the ship

Neither am I
Uhh Who Feb 2013
"god, i hate everyone. i cant stand being around people"
"same here, they repulse me. lets hang out some time"
why would i want to better know someone who hates people
when i hate people?
isnt that a recipe for disaster?
sure its a commonality but...

i still dont know what the allure is
i feel like an audience member
my voice drowned out by the crowd around
is it lonliness?
cant be.
when im around people i look for that.
but when im alone i search for company
not even sure what i want anymore
bouncing around from different states of mind
wants and needs constantly changing...
accepting that i can never have a normal relationship or interaction with other people
acceptance is much easier than fighting
the makings of an antisocial

im in this odd spot where i am very much introverted yet still sometimes crave attention and i cant seem to get a handle on it
I've spent so long alone,
that I forget what it's like,
to have a home.
Not like riding a bike,
but, rather, something old.
Without constant reminder,
it fades, lost in the wind.
But something new has arrived.
Someone else, who enjoys me.
'Tis a feeling I have forgotten.
But now I feel... refreshed.
Enlightened. Loved.

— The End —