The Lonely Soul

Loneliness ate at him, gnawing persistently surrounded by so many yet so alone forsaken and spurned - that was how it felt Oh how his soul it longed and yearned - groping, reaching out questions crowded his mind - is it me? what can i do? behind the mask there is no smile - anguish resides he looks at the faces around but they look through him not at him searching for a gaze, a smile, a warmth there is no sunshine here to warm the coldness inside blocking out the feeling he soldiers on busies himself keeping busy - routine alleviates the torture within the tide of emotions rises and falls but he remains a solitary figure detached and imprisoned in a frenzy of thoughts and despair coldness contaminates his mind and appearance his soul progressively ices over - broken, friendless ©Ashford Harris - January 2010