Alone

Alone
A short story in a poem.
A poem of madness.





I feel alone.
Almost by myself.
As if no one was here,
I've been put up onto a shelf.
The noises, I can hear.
Yet, I don't make a sound.
I try screaming,
But nothing comes out.
I feel trapped,
In my own personal hell,
With all of these feelings of torture,
I feel as if, somehow,
I am a shell of my former self,
Not happy or laughing,
But instead, Begging, Pleading,YEARNING for help.
Yet, nobody comes,
As if I don't exist.
They all pass by,
Not even glancing,
Can they not tell?
I am alone and lost?
I need someone now,
before I die from this frost.

I shout,
Yet nobody listens,
Well, except for one person.
Myself.
I yearn for someone, anyone, PLEASE?!
I am already begging,
down on my knees.
Surely there's one person,
Just one, who cares.
Just one, who cares enough,
just to save me from despair?

Hatred, regret, I can't let it out.
I have tried to beg,
to plead,
and even shout!
I only one thing I want,
an Escape.
Just one way out of this state.
Just a key for the lock on my cage.

Depression, I feel it lurking.
Like a monster it creeps,
and I can feel the emotions turning,
turning inside of me like a jammed cog, or gear,
It is destroying me.

This Pain Inside of me turns,
It broils, it simmers, only to stew.
Why can't anyone hear me,
When I can hear all of you?
It hurts,
it burns,
to witness all of these being dealt nothing,
but desserts.
Alone,
alone in the dark, I sit,
I wait,
I churn.

My Contemplation,
Am I even alive?
My thoughts,
Here only the darkest thrive,
Here, every glimpse of hope, every spark of life,
gets swatted away, gets destroyed, like a fly.
I slowly fall, on my downward spiral
I fall further and further down,
mile after mile.

Madness,
Past the brink of sanity, I land.
I start laughing,
as if it were only so grand.
I chuckle, I laugh, and cry.
I only know of one truth:
I am going to die.
Here in this place,
here in my hell.
This place I call home,
my cozy little cell.

I know I am rotting,
decaying, wasting away,
yet I laugh, chuckle, and play.
Play with the brink of insanity,
which I gladly embrace.
I welcome it with open arms,
and a smile upon my face.
Here I sit.
All alone, by myself.
Up alone as if on a shelf.
They bring me my pills,
my sweet escape.
I finally awaken from my comatose,
smile on my face,
and can only laugh,
for I am still in this place.
This asylum I call home,
where the madness surrounds me every day,
predictable, as if by clockwork,
As if it were a metronome, in every way.
TICK.
TICK.
TICK.
Here I will stay.
Every moment,
of every day.
How I got here, I have no recollection,
Yet, it is here that I will gladly stay.
Alone I was,
alone I still am,
but, I am now a different man.
I am happy,
I am always glad,
I guess this is what it is like,
to be mad.


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