The Lonely


Loneliness is a strange thing
As are the ways we spend our life
Those who spend it alone are rarely at fault
Though some do so by choice
Many are forced to be alone
Whether by outward or inner flaw

They are different and separate
On occasion the different unite
They understand each other and comfort
But more often they will fail apart
No one to mourn their loss
Or see what others have missed

Some are always alone no matter where
They may be surrounded yet desolate
For it is their nature to be so
They may embrace busy lives
Using activity to numb the ache
But they are more alone than anyone

Perhaps there is some reward ahead
Pity shown to those who have suffered
But life is a harsh landscape
Cover sparse and weather hard
And it shows no mercy to any
Nor does it show justice




(c)2002 by Robert H. Harrison