The Solitude
My loneliness bleeds but is not stained,
What has become of this light of day?
A solitude of thoughts so mixed, so pained.
The comfort of the night on darkness rained,
To wander the streets with naught to say,
My loneliness bleeds but is not stained.
To walk down the alley, narrow and tear-drained,
Watching for a sign but leading me astray,
A solitude of thoughts so mixed, so pained.
This hurt that covers, a veil ingrained,
Finds me getting on an empty subway,
My loneliness bleeds but is not stained.
Travelling to nowhere by fate ordained,
Until the distance feels furthest away,
A solitude of thoughts so mixed, so pained.
To undergo the sound and suffering so sustained,
I find myself too hesitant to pray,
My loneliness bleeds but is not stained.
A solitude of thoughts so mixed, so pained.
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