Wednesday, 18 November 2015


When I am with my friends, I laugh and joke.
But when I am alone, I am a different man.
There is a pain, which will not leave me.
There is a loneliness, I feel still.
Too much death and a year of change.
A future of hope but a past vanished.
I no longer write with ink.
Or the blood of feeling but with tears.

My friend’s say, “He always smiles.”
But I never smile, when I am alone.
I have a consolation; that things can only get better.
But if they do not, then where will I stand?
I will stand alone, in the darkness of despair.
Pining from the pain, of a parting unforgivable.
But I will write and I will work.
I write with tears and I work alone.

Text © D.B. Griffith the Chattering Magpie

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