Alone

Where exactly is it? That ache that isn’t “real.”

The feeling of alone-ness

I hold and now reveal.

 

In the heart or chest somewhere

the heaviness sits hard

No respite for this weary soul

Yet, often, I’m off guard

 

Vices do I grab

To nothingness I hold

Weariness like weights

Inside me till I’m old

 

 

 

 

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