Poem
Insignificant.
Useless.
Unimportant.
Alone.
Once what was a glow, a warmth to keep me going,
Now a growing void for a future unknown.
Distance increases.
As the light that once was fades.
I sit here in silence.
Contemplating.
Wondering.
Realizing.
This is the present we have made.
A happy heart now draining, ignored by the one who fills.
Those who know and understand,
Know that loneliness kills.
The mental struggle.
The physical toll.
How difficult it is to see,
When blinded by delusion and hope.
Things like this make happiness feel impossible to be.
The Reticent Owl 