Blog Archive

Sunday, April 26, 2009

By Myself

Alone, I am alone, all alone,
sitting here by myself.

There are a multitude of me
sitting here by ourselves,
voices tormenting one head.

One heart spread thin
among my point of views,
right and wrong and
on the fence.

These voices never silent
heard above
echoing thunder and others
words of stale company.

To sit alone it is
a heavy task,
to lose every identity
and find myself...alone,
one train of thought.

Every crossroad
I die a little
as pieces of me
fall away, to their own
dusty roads.

Comedy and tragedy
waging wars
of laughter and tears,
a marriage of
courage and fear.

Alone, I am alone, all alone;
sitting here by myself.

2 comments:

Every Photo Tells A Story said...

The voices in ones head "can" be tormenting.

I especially like this description:

"Every crossroad
I die a little
as pieces of me
fall away, to their own
dusty roads."

ambersun said...

A lovely but sad poem.

I have often felt pretty much like this too.

The repetition of the word 'alone' really emphasises the loneliness of this piece.

I was pleased, at the end, that there were both laughter and tears.

Amber