A solitary figure
In the dimly lit corners of her existence,
She lingered, a ghost in the midst of persistence.
From the womb, she was marked, a black sheep born,
Destined to wander, forsaken and torn.
In childhood's tender grasp, she stood apart,
A shadow in the daylight, a whisper in the heart.
Rejected by kin, a stranger within her home,
She bore the burden of isolation, forced to roam.
Schoolyard taunts echoed in her ears,
A symphony of cruelty, a chorus of fears.
Alone on the playground, she watched from afar,
As laughter and friendship danced like stars.
Adulthood beckoned with its false allure,
But for her, it was a prison, cold and obscure.
A window she peered from, a silent observer,
Yearning for connection, a hunger to be heard.
Social gatherings became her battleground,
A masquerade of smiles, a battleground unfound.
Behind closed doors, she drowned in despair,
A solitary figure, lost in her own nightmare.
Self-hate grew like a cancer in her soul,
Eating away at her, devouring her whole.
Every mirror reflected her deepest shame,
A constant reminder of her relentless pain.
Middle age found her weary and worn,
With no one to turn to, no solace to mourn.
She pushed them all away, one by one,
Cancelled visits, excuses spun.
Alone in her silence, she faced the truth,
That life was a lie, a cruel sleuth.
"Everyone dies, but not everyone truly lives,"
The phrase echoed in her mind, a truth she relives.
Darkness enveloped her, a shroud of despair,
No light in sight, no solace to repair.
Anxiety gripped her like a vice,
Squeezing the life out of her, a cold sacrifice.
No hope in sight, no end in sight,
Just endless suffering, an eternal night.
She embraced the darkness, welcomed its embrace,
For in its cold arms, she found her place.
So let her story be a warning to all,
Of the dangers of isolation, the depths of the fall.
For in the end, we are all alone,
Lost in the darkness, forever unknown.
Copyright ©
Amanda Payne
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