I guess to some extent you get used to being alone.
Eventually you just stop expecting the phone to ever ring and
Spending your nights alone at home doesn’t bother you.
You don’t expect nor seek out conversation or company.
Like a recluse, you detach from life’s creation and each day you watch your own reality, slowly slip, slip, slipping away.
Days go by completely soundless, wordless, like life’s been muted.
In this lonely inaudible world my sanity has become of question. The silence from my thoughts echo’s so forcefully inside my head, it’s ricocheting and pulsating through my soul to the depths of the unknown?
So, sure you might get used to being alone...
But it hurts like Hell and brings such pain I couldn’t attempt or try to re-iterate...
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Comments about this poem (Alone by Ryann Blair )
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