Lonesome

Faulty,

Mind incomplete when alone,

Friends or human,

To remind me of existence.

To remember what exists,

Memories, of the past,

The present and its being

The future and the shining future.

All shrouded by the lack of presence,

Lack of feeling.

The times all gone.

Looking for constant distractions,

To fill my mind,

To surround myself in company.

To cope living,

In my mind. Alone.

Oh, how others make it seem easy.

Relaxing and being free.

While I distract myself from the feeling.

The lonesome feeling.

The waiting for something.

Nothing in particular.

But feeling.

To feel being.

To grasp life,

And enjoy living.

Enjoy being.

A constant distraction I seek.

Will it be found?

Can it be found?

Am I doomed to lonesome existence.

Is this a fault in my mind?

The lonesome nature of existence.

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