Poem: picture this…

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.