To Marcy Howard

In the adventure we call life,
We’re surrounded by so many faces,
Never noticed by the world,
Alone, in populated places,
Isolation is the sentence imposed,
But is it by heart or mind,
As the hand of time ticks by,
Inner peace nowhere to find.
 
 
Then one day the soul is matched,
But together does not last,
As the mind plays memories,
That reach out from the past,
Left with only dreams to hold,
As the arms hold empty air,
Though surrounded, still alone,
As the skeletons stroke our fears.
 
 
Those skeletons build a sturdy wall,
Constructed with bones and pain,
As each night the nightmares call,
With the skeletons unrestrained,
While each day ticks slowly by,
The heart is filled with desolation,
Through the whispers in the night,
We exist, inside isolation.
 
 
We hide behind our happy faces,
While each day we’re left insure,
Reaching back through long gone days,
With a heart that beats no more,
Time keeps stacking the skeletons bones,
They become the walls ornamentation,
As we build it higher still,
We’re lost, inside isolation.
.        Until the end.

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