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,Β Β 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.