Poems

Solitude

There are clothes hanging from the ceiling

In a room without feeling

In it lies a body in desperate need of healing

No sense of presence upon empty walls

The chills of the partially exposed concrete floor calls

Books and boxes all add to clutter all around

There’s enough noise to make you crazy without the slightest sound

Your own thoughts can sometimes be the most insane

You can’t shut yourself out; it’s hard to explain

Three slits in the wall share a glimpse of the sun

Alone, secluded, there can be only one
 

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