Natural Selection

It is far easier to lose old friends
Than to make new ones.
The meekest insult, the slimmest insinuation,
And the deal is off; the pact that weathered years
Of contumely and abuse
Vaporizes on the spot
With a scent that stirs up memories
Of halcyon eras that never were.
There's no solution, no salvation.
People don't know you, and you
Not only don't know them, but suspect
They are unreformable fools.
No wonder so many wind up
Conversing with their selves,
For there's no one to talk to,
No one to listen,
And you, with all those stories
Aching to be unleashed,
Rot in your uneasy chair,
A victim of natural selection.