How sad it is that a person can grow accustomed to loneliness.
How the hollow ache of a heart becomes a comfort and the quiet hallways of a house can become a home.
How when a we have no one to turn to, we turn on ourselves. A cut for every word you can't speak and a bruise for all of the people who leave.
How with each passing day the voices of loved ones become nothing more than a whisper as the ringing in our heads becomes skull shatteringly loud.
How sad it is that I can write about loneliness to strangers, describing the way it clouds my life day after day, yet when my mother asks me "what's wrong" I can't find a single word in all of my vocabulary to answer her one question.
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Author:
gen (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 21st, 2017 20:36
- Comment from author about the poem: It\\\'s been a while.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 17
Offline)
Comments1
I have felt this in the past. While it may seem bleak now, eventually you get through. Trust me.
Thank you
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