|
|
|
||||||||
|
LONELINESS
What is loneliness?
Does anyone really know?
It's a feeling of emptiness,
From way down below,
Emptiness from no care at all,
In winter, summer, spring, or fall.
Who is to determine what you feel,
If you can't see emotions are real?
Misery, corruption, heartless cold;
Each passing minute is ten years old.
Everything you own, you always destroy,
Like an angry child breaking a toy.
Kindness offered, you meet with abuse,
And it ends the same way: you always lose.
Loneliness?
A thing so dark, and oh, so cold,
With hurting's sharp and pain so bold,
It pushes to into corruption,
An open road to self-destruction.
The strength I need, I don't possess,
Conviction needed, I have less,
I search for ways to overcome,
The feelings that have left me numb.
How can I give light to the dark,
Heat to the cold, softness to the heart?
How can I manage to ease the pain,
Stop the hurt, not being in vain?
Where is there an answer to be given?
Must that be my own decision?
Where seek the start, where find the end?
It begins in the light, then takes a dark bend.
REMAY 1966, Revised1973
|
||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||
|
NEXT POEM
|
||||||||||||||
 |
||||||||||||||
|
|
||||||||||||||
|
NEXT POEM
|
||||||||||||||
| page created with Easy Designer |