Shh! Shh! Shh! The sound of a frail silent heart,
Unheard as the hiss of a thirsty cobra in a dessert.
Krr! Krr! Krr! The croaky bleary brain neuron moves,
Like the hibernating snail stuck on a brine swamp.
Twrhh! Twrhh! Twrhh! The twitch of a dreary eyes as it thrives
As the famished rat in a refugee camp.
Grrh! Grrh! Grrh! The bleeding pen is in rage
As it writes about a silent heart in a silent page.
‘Thunder’ the sages say it’s lonely,
Despite its plangent rumbles high in the sky.
The lonely thunder is nothing to the silent heart cry,
For it chose to live freely and strangely.
Isn’t there the sky, the stars, the moon, to make friends with?
Too distant! Isn’t there the lightening to make friends with?
Too fast! I can’t catch up with her from afar.
You chose to be lonely for your act is bizarre.
The lonely heart in a body filled with friendlies,
Wandering carelessly and helplessly around the streets,
Lurking around the corners of hostilities and antipathy,
Only known by the tattered clothes; no empathy.
All eyes on the lonely heart, no sight on him!
Where is the blunt knife to peel of the lonely skim?
Or the sharp knife that punctures out of sympathy?
The blunt knife or sharp knife, none unworthy.
The silent page of the silent heart is filled with ink,
A raged bleeding ink with deserted nibble.
Through the silent page, let thy
Loneliness is nothing but an afflicted trouble!
Get out! Get off it and make cool friends,
Don’t be an introvert, be plain and don’t pretend.
We all say we are lonely when we feel isolated,
Not by our friends nor our enemies but ourselves.
*TO ALL THE LONELY ONES OUT THERE WHO UNDERSTAND WHAT IT TAKES TO BE LONELY AND READY TO GET OFF IT AFTER REALIZING LONELINESS IS CREATED FROM WITHIN*
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