Loneliness, Feels

In the darkest hours I sit and weep.

All alone, I cry out and seek

For a friendly ear to hear my sorrow,

And tell me of a good tomorrow.

Voice loud, my friend, of a greater life.

Speak, forever, of a better time.

Than this one filled with so much strife;

That can turn, so heavy, on little dimes.

Happiness is something I once knew;

Honestly believing it was true.

Now I know twas' all a phantom.

Brought to bear with glorious anthem!

Happiness, to me, is now only a feeling.

Once felt by those sincerely, seeking,

And found, in time, I thought I did;

Tho' I was lost, and confounded.

Now I, alone, lay despairing.

Who will rescue me from dying?

Drink and smoke are friends to me;

Never leaving; always, meant to be.

Like once love, I drink them in,

Not knowing where, how to begin.

Do I begin again at the start,

Like some naked work of art?

Or uncomplicate the canvas painted

With every, single, brush untainted.

I did once imagine though

My soul absent this much woe.

But now, I fear, my bed is made:

No gold, no silver, no pearls, no jade.

And who is this that lies beside me?

Tis' nothing and no one; fore'er to be.