The Lonely Soul
I’m the period, at the end of a sentence;
the wallpaper; gone out of style;
my whole life is a study in repentance;
an honest fool; alive for a while.
I’m lonely and quiet; devoid of purpose;
an introvert, extraordinaire;
my feelings, hidden; neath the surface;
few people know I’m there.
I’m a man; that very few want to meet;
I have little, worthwhile to say;
my life has made me unworthy to speak;
but I continue to speak, anyway.
My life is the image of lessons learned;
mine, is not a path to follow;
though most of my failures are unearned;
my life still seems hollow.
I find myself living in the shadow of life;
few care, if I live or die;
I’ve earned my share of heartbreak and strife;
and now, all I ask, is why?
Why should anyone pay me any mind;
loneliness is nobody’s goal;
all my success has been left behind;
and, I’m just a lonely soul.
I always thought; every life has a reason;
a purpose, handed down from above;
now, as I become in life’s final season;
I know my purpose is to love.
Monty 4.1.26. # 3,231