He was a lonely child, Alone
much like an tightly coiled,
overwound wristwatch that no longer ran
so uptight, and uncomfortable around people
Only alone was he ever relaxed
and yet he was never quite content
because alone is never truly alone
loneliness, his constant companion
steadily sweeping away serenity
and leaving complacency in its wake
Nika this is the third time I've typed and tried to post my comment on ALONE'S COMPANION HERE GOES: I can identify with this young man. For reasons not entirely clear to me I spent a lot of my child alone. My twin sister had many friends, I had my tricycle and my imagination. I can still vividly in my mind a telephone pole where I'd scuff the dirt and bury treasure, mostly trinkets from candy boxes. But your poem follows this young man into a darker place because his isolation is not healthy for him and he is acquiring personality traits that are distinctly negative and may make him extremely vulnerable in the future. You invest him with his own dignity, so perhaps in the war inside him the good elements will prevail. This is highly empathetic wrtiting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice piece of work. I like it!