Lonely Figure By the Pond-Side

That lonely figure by the pond-side.

Drooped over, embracing this solitude they find themself in. Holding a hand up to the sky.

Wondering if anyone will pass by,

Wondering where their life has gone,

The warmth evaporated.

Tears run down their cheek,

Flowing into the collection of water around them.

Watching people walk past and fade,

They remain,

They remain unmistakably alone, with no one.

No once can hear their cries,

No one wants to.

No one pays them attention,

They don’t deserve it.

Left alone wondering by the lakeside,

The reflection, a mirage, beckoning them further in.

Showing a reflection; the tired eyes, deep wrinkles, sad demeanour, empty mind and sad soul.

The figure kneels, absorbing the loneliness,

Wanting an end to the emptiness.

Looking around and longing,

For a friend to site beside them.

Waiting for home to find them.

Then comes the realisation:

They are alone, are unwanted and a burden to all who had once cared.

They are in a turbulent and reluctant peace.

Leaving all whom they cares about alone.

Because they are alone, are unwanted and a burden to all who had once cared.

They are then left, a mere sad and lonely figure, sitting by the pond side.

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Not Worth The Pain

Not worth this pain,

The feeling,

Kindness and care,

The disregarded looks and selfish means,

The oblivious attitude,

And the devious motives.

Behind the backs,

Left in confusion,

At what is real, meant, or said.

Feeling, caring,

Not worth the pain, yet also is.

For the mere smile of a friend.

Can turn your mood and life around.

Bringing to light, what only saw darkness.

Is it worth the pain?

Even for rare. Yet ecstatic happiness?

Curse of Caring

The curse of caring,

The pain of helping, but wanting to help,

But pained by it.

The dichotomies of wanting above all to help, yet hurting because of it.

Wanting to help, yet feel helpless,

Wanting to care, but always doing it wrong.

In the midst of the summer’s sun, there is a dying flower.

Within the darkness there is always some pain.

Left with the curse of caring too much,

For too many,

The curse of caring,

Left in pain, by my own hand,

With no one to turn to.

Little Moments of Love

Those little moments of love,

The little moments of kindness,

The warmth across my skin, the words of kindness and grace.

The warm embrace, in solidarity with the feeling,

Against the darkness.

To bring the humanity back to the feeling,

I yours,

And you mine.

The walk in the summer sun,

The laughs along the path.

The hand to hold.

Your heart to keep.

Your spell on me.

Yet another little moment,

One that means the world.

Down this path through the world.

Alongside you,

You never need to be alone with your demons,

I’ll stand by you,

These little moments of love.

I’ll face my demons so that you can face yours.

Just as you’ve been there for me.

Through those little moments of love.

Those Tears Drying On My Face

Those tears drying on my hurting face.

The pained reminder.

The awkward smile.

The reality insufficient in mind.

A time of being, thinking and meaning.

Making up the mind through the tear-soaked face.

The smile beneath the crying face.

Knowing you are there but really aren’t.

Why am I not surprised.

It never changes.

This never changes.

The tears dry on my face,

Time and time again,

An indelible mark.

The collection of sorrows that mark my mind.

The collection of times, always on my mind.

Waiting,

Longing.

A character, alone,

Walking empty through life.

As those tears dry on my face.