Being Alone
Being aloneA being really alone
Is somewhere we will always be
Something is better than not
Perhaps, is it not?
Once one used to believe
In the words that we weave
Simple prayers dashed upon a field of stony stars
Like who cares, crashed alone to yield behind these bars
Me from you, is it one or two casualties
Too little to reflect, too much to consider the effect
Depends upon just who is asking
Questions standing tests of times like doors unlocking
Dusty boxes of broken riddles so to speak
Hearing the silent wind wind around evening branches of rain
It is all a dream we lived, playing the game for a little pain,
Just to be gone
Being alone
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2020-07-11 at 14:26
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