the loneliness secluding you
seems to comfort you,
the pain within you
seems to hold you.
you once think about
the isolation cell you placed
yourself in,
and you imagine
nothing more
than the feeling of
giving up.
quite ironic, no?
the liking of being alone,
but the suffering that becomes it.
the desire of isolation,
but the hurt that surrounds it.
quite ironic.
you long for a feeling of love,
but push away every chance
you get.
you long for a person to notice,
notice that something’s off.
just someone out of
seven billion others
to notice.
that’s what you want.
but every opportunity you receive,
you chose to ignore it.
quite ironic.
a shield gets put up everyday,
and never seems to be
taken off.
the idea of having
that prolonging feeling
of needing something
gets quite tiring.
it’s almost unbearable now,
it’s almost to the point where
there is no point anymore.
and you start to miss the core
of who you truly are.
the emotion that comes within
shines throughout,
all the way until that door
gets closed shut.
but,
you don’t seem to have that
prolonging desire anymore.
It’s gone.
the feeling of wanting more,
more of everything
seems to frighten you.
frighten you to the point
where you don’t
long for that anymore.
the opportunity passes by,
and there you go.
It’s gone.