In all the beauty of spring
I couldn't find life,
As I couldn't reach the core
Of that which my heart desired,
I had me,
but "me" wasn't enough for me,
I kept looking for a missing part,
The part that was never there,
Maybe there's no other part
To make me complete puzzle,
I guess I have what I truly deserve,
Being On my own.
With no other but my own thoughts
To listen to my cries and ideas,
Whom will I ever share a piece of
My mind with?
Will I ever reach an about turn on
This odyssey I'm wandering?
Or my fate is just that,
"I would be on my own til eternity?"
I just don't know,
All I know is,
I'm tired of being on my own.
YOU ARE READING
On my Own
PoetryOn my own, fighting to keep my breathes, longing to grab a life, yet whatever that which life has in store for me is pain and the least of ecstasy.
