Alone

Alone,

that's all I feel.

An empty pit of loneliness

stretched out before a meal.

Yet,

I cannot eat.

I stare and stare at the delicious feast

but I know it is not for me.

It is for others,

those that have never starved.

Those that live their lives

in the glamour of a bar.

It's not for me,

I tell myself its ok.

It's ok that I can't tell anyone

what I want to say.

Its ok

that my first language doesn't feel like my own,

Its ok

that those who want to hurt me

call me home

Its ok

I can't communicate

without shaking my hands.

Its ok

that I relate to the villain

and never really have a plan.

I hope its ok to be different,

to be lost in a crowd,

to know you're alone

no matter how many people are around.

I hope its ok

to feel what I feel

because I have finally convinced myself

that every single part of it

is real.

The alone nights, seeing things beyond the stars.

The days when I don't want to think about it anymore!

Those times where I don't want anything but to go to bed,

but I sit there

and stare

at a screen

instead......

Those days where I wake up and everything is pain, when I stay silent and just wait for the end of the day. I don't tell a soul, what happens in my mind. All the shattered glass and figments inside. Everything is breaking in the eclipse of time. Moment to moment reality unwinds. Everything dwindles into decline. I sit alone now, as I have many times before. Slowly going insane from the inventions of war.