The Lonely

We are the lonely and together we stand
We crowd the streets, we are all around
We are the lonely and do not know how
To talk to each other, our minds won’t allow

Social constraint and too much stress
Make us lead the life of utter loneliness
If we could only stop to say hello
Then hell would go just by adding an ‘o’

We are the lonely, we do not speak
We are not elite, we are the many, the meek
On an average day we go out to work
We get our heads down and do not shirk

And then at night we go home to cold TV
There is no noisy you watching, only silent me
At night we dream of meeting a good friend
A problem to share, the boiler to mend.

Amelia Runcorn lies cold in her grave
No one misses her and what she gave
She lived alone on the forgotten estate
Seeing out her time with no one to relate

Dominic Lithgowe lived across the way
Every evening he’d close his eyes and pray
But gods don’t listen, they are rarely there
They leave hopeful pleas hanging in mid-air

Every face tells a story, every line a regret
A moment of hesitation, we try to forget
A chance swings by as real as concrete
Touching your senses, a feeling complete

When we were together in fields of light
We tasted the world and it felt so right
The sun stood high in its temple of sky
Blessing each one of us, telling us why

Reviews

[Davidgeo]

I think this describes the lifestyle of more people than we know. Even people with families can feel this brand of solitude if the situation goes to pot or a significant other changes drastically over time into something bland or awful.

I think this is the best thing I've read here in a while. Well written, honest and relatable. . . good work.

[drew garner]

your my kind of stylist! this is very interesting i will try to do a more in depth review after i had some sleep, to hopefully do this piece justice. thank you for sharing.

[Norbanus]

Alone he lies, and eyes the ceiling fan.
At least he knows the reason for his grief.
He tells himself, ‘I’ll not do that again.
But, she won’t take my call—there’s no relief.’

He’ll be alone, his thoughts a constant blur,
of things he should have seen but sorely missed,
Those visions plague his mind again of her,
and how they fit together when they kissed.

He’ll die alone, because he thought she’d stay,
no matter what he did behind her back.
But now, he has to face the final way,
she has him bound there frozen to his rack.

He is alone. Too late to clean the slate.
He lied to her, and now he’s met his fate.