Lonely

2004.

Sitting on the sofa in the attic,
I feel deplorable, I'm in distress.
My instincts herald acrimony.
Oh! I'm lonely.

Alone in a dingy tower,
searching for the golden exit,
left in a state of melancholy;
lonesome overrides me.

Can't forge ahead in life.
Detested by enthusiast, can't concede the
fact I'm in solitude.
Secluded my aura is monotonous.

In a state of anguish.
Bereft by links.
Forsaken in a blurred globe,
lost I submerge into my crust;
waiting to be called.

(c) Y-MAG