Loneliness creeps in like chilled wind past an old window
It tastes of stale crackers, familiar, but undesired
Thoughts of your life, your decisions can’t leave the room
The very windows letting in the chill keep your thoughts prisoner
Their glass, wavy from age, reflects your situation warped like a circus mirror
Opening them would blast you with frigid air,
Keeping them shut may drive you insane….
The choices of your life come back like an annoying neighbor
Knocking at your door at the most inopportune times
The fun you had, the responsibilities you avoided, the phobias you created
Now turn your Saturday night from “the weekend” to an internal war of thoughts
Drawn out slowly, keeping the residents in constant fear
A war that occurs inside your mind, but seems to consume your body.
Bombs and grenades explode inside whether they hit or miss the target
An attack on the enemy is one in the same with an attack on the good guys
The room becomes ever more cold, the windows start to whine
The noise and the cold are tag-teaming you
Trying to plug the cracks is futile
Hypothermia may kill you before the sound makes you go mad
Freezing to death seems like a good analogy for the pain of lost love
A slow descent from mild discomfort to suffocating anguish
Small bits of it are annoying, but its consistency will kill you
The consistency of the loss, of the mental punishment is what is killing me
The lack of improvement of the patient, no signs of the willpower needed to fight
The sword uses both sides to cut, the double edge
You can leave the house for a few hours when a friend calls
Or you have to work, but you have no where to go but home
the wind never warms, nor the whine subsides
it looks nice outside, but the windows hold only hardship
The more you try to ignore it the louder and colder it becomes
The more clothes you put on, the heavier you feel
Naked on the floor you are broken
You have nothing to give, nothing to remove
The base of a being is found in pain and suffering
From here there is only up, but it is so hard to see anything but down
The floor can relate to you, the ceiling is not even in reach of your wildest dreams
Alone you wait to die, or be saved
By yourself.
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