Loneliness: The disease

The flowers seem to wilt when I walk on by, they shrivel and hide from the crystalline sky.

The sun cowers behind the mass of grey, it will happen tomorrow like it did today.

The company I keep is that of books, fiction and fantasy and anything that hooks.

But it's sad to think that my only friends, are just ink and paper and teenage trends.

If I shriek, and scream, and shout in spite, will anyone notice the flower blight?

I feel I am a shadow, a mere shape in the dark, I beg and plead but non will hark.

Tonight the stars dimmed as I stared, as if there was no light for me to be spared.

Oh I wish, I beg someone would see, but I'm stuck in this world of invisibility.

I look in the mirror but by my reflection I am shunned, leaving me rejected and stunned.

The doctor doodles on his pad, then gives me pills for the lonely and sad.

It seems I am but dust, forgotten in the breeze, maybe I'm infected with some vicious disease.

The flowers seem to die when I walk up close, maybe it's because my demeanour is too morose.