Stricken

My countenance is weak as I approach the end of this season
that has cost me my love and all sense of reason.

As the hour glass tumbled, my life changed as I moved far away
but fate is unkind to the blind so I must wait for another day.

No one cares for the lonely who cry out to potential friendly souls
and this curse to which I am stricken leaves nothing within but holes.

An unending whinding minute hand clicks on the clock
as time seems to slow down and looks as if to stop.

Companionship is the stranger that always avoids me
and it always seems to take my sands of time for free.

I am in a dessert where my destination is uncertain,
when people see me alone outside they close the curtain.

This drout must end the same way it started
but until then, socially, I will be gaurded.