Houlden Caulfield Syndrome Poem by Timothy Long

The aloneness killed him inside, so did the phoniness of life and of its people, like he's the only different one, he tried to save his life through truth not lies, do the days ever change, can the days ever wind down, this syndrome is the solitude of depression as the peace becomes a pathetic man, welcome to my world that never ends, I'm ashamed in ways to hide my fake feelings in this wasted society, I'm sick but that's your success not society's success, she was to pretty to be stressed, some say she wasn't but to me she was, her worst nightmare in her life was the regret, regret of life, the saddest as what might have been where her writing with the pen, with all the roads traveled and miles walked, if I'm going to be the coldest person ever, let me be called the saddest as well, trying so hard to live yet for me it's never enough, still like any lousy mind I still dream as in the end we die alone as we are born alone.