How could you call me self-centred when I worry about how easily others can manipulate you;
Sweet words and songs of praises are all it takes to get you nodding;
Trusting the very hawks that have been circling, waiting to swoop in for the kill.
How could you call me aloof when we’ve never bared our souls to each other;
Never really made hugs and kisses a familiar routine;
Never letting me explain my hopes and dreams before making a judgement.
How could you call me heartless when I cry for a pet that was my true companion;
Trivialising my sorrow;
Dismissing the pain I’m feeling from having lost the bundle of joy who gave me unconditional love.
How could you call me insufferable when all you do is talk behind my back;
Griping about my faults for all and sundry to hear;
Not acknowledging the good that I’ve done.
You could call me all that and more, I’ve realised
Simply because you’ve never known me
Betrayed and hurt;
It’s time to walk away.
Is loneliness a disease? The constant feeling of emptiness, a vacuum in the heart that only melancholy lingers in, the yearning of companionship that prevails even when you’re in boisterous company. Is this loneliness? If it is, what’s the prescription, doc?
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