Alone Poem by George French

Alone.
In this cold place.
No one close,
Only the blank face.

Of myself,
Staring into space.
Wondering.
Was it all a waste?

Contemplating.
If I should keep going.
This doubt.
It just keeps growing.

Am I who I thought I was?
Or am I anything but me?
Only I will know.
But, who i am is who I will be.

I try to find myself.
Im lost.
Need to find me,
At any cost.

A prisoner.
Trapped in his own prison.
All doubts about me,
Have risen.

Began to takeover.
Consumed my thinking.
Can't get away from it,
I feel the person inside me shrinking.

Again.
Who am I?
I'm no one without you.
And so I die.

Up to this point,
I had known everything.
After this all,
I don't know anything.

What you think,
How you feel.
I don't know at all,
I can barely deal.

Yet still I sit,
Continue to debate,
If what I have,
Is love or hate.

Love or hate,
For who I am.
But who am I?
No one gives a damn.

Because no one has to live,
This life that I lead.
It's only me in this battle,
So should I concede?

Or pick up the pieces,
And carry on.
Or leave the pieces,
And believe I'm gone...