My mind is a funnel,

a twisting winding net,

Like a train-less tunnel,

It's a sky without a jet.

All my friends have left me,

But I don't feel alone,

I sit eating honey,

Literature is my home.

Oh no, I'm never alone

-but I always feel lonely.

It's a companion of mine,

and it always sits beside me.

And my friends they tell me

That it's just passing by.

But no matter where I go,

It's always by my side.

My thoughts are not my own

-so how could I be alone?!