I lost myself some time ago,
and could not get me back.
I mourn in silent agony,
for the things that I now lack.
The passion that once drove me,
has vanished into air.
And the things that I once loved to do,
it's like they were never there.
Monotony and endless days,
are bland and dull and dreary.
The life that I've now settled to,
drains, and leaves me weary.
I don't recognise my face these days,
the light has left my eyes.
And even though I say I'm fine,
I don't believe those lies.
I miss the me that I once was,
And long for her return.
To reignite the fire,
and watch this empty shell burn.
Teetering on the edge of “tear my hair out” frustration.
Hit with a severe case of no inspiration.
Sweating in heat, lack of precipitation.
I can’t even be bothered with masturbation.
There’s a holiday opinion dividing the nation.
Proving their points in mass demonstration.
Though all I can think, to my indignation, is
Long weekend, but no motivation.
Curse you, foolish, sentimental heart.
I would sooner tear you from my body than let your wickedness poison me any longer.
Rot. Wither and die before me, as the cavity you left in my chest weeps and bleeds.
I can do without you. I will grieve you not.
I am not a deep thinker,
Or an eloquent speaker.
I cannot write music,
And barely write verse.
I’m not often funny,
And quite far from sunny.
I’m a bit weird and awkward,
Ah, but things could be worse.
I could be friendless,
Or totally loveless,
I could be hopeless,
Or stiff in a hearse.
So despite all my defects,
And all my bad aspects,
The thing to recall,
Is that life ain’t a curse.
All who are lonely need not be disheartened.
You are not alone.
We are, all of us, lonely too.
Not the happy people.
Not the content.
But the lost, and the left.
If we all came together, we the lonely
We would come to realise
That we are in good company.
And none of us should ever have to feel alone again.
In the dark of night he lost his fight and took his final breath.
He closed his eyes and gently smiled and gladly welcomed death.
The one he left was so bereft and couldn’t bear the sorrow.
Of losing one she loved so dear to a place she could not follow.
She slowly withdrew from the people she knew and became a fragile shell.
For every day without him was a living, wretched hell.
Her shattered heart soon fell apart and crumbled into dust.
Her blood stopped pumping through tender veins and slowly turned to rust.
She fell to sleep, a slumber so deep that she could not be woken.
And when she died, her family cried for a girl, once whole, made broken.