Finding Solitude

When do I recognize I’ve had enough

after years of never really knowing how to decide,

what makes it worthwhile,

this it, this piece of our lives,

this need to demonstrate always

while this hollow reality aches inside.

~

When only the quaking fear of my psyche

takes over anything else,

whether it matters or whether it isn’t even real,

my mind will play with the moment,

and let me wallow in the shame

of never really understanding how easy life might be.

~

I chose to take a difficult route the day I became alone

within a crowd of thousands,

there I stood in the center of everything feeling

the wrath of my society bend its will,

in order to pummel my own confusion

with diatribe after diatribe of nonsensical air.

~

I wonder if I might ever really fathom

hours of lost time,

considerations that might leave others blind

with fury or madness or ill met resolve,

the burden of the human condition

never really being realized, floating askance.

~

It was in the dawn of my 25th year

when reality spoke only of its burden

and the charmed life,

the one just on the other side of the fence

would only chuckle the nearer I stood

knowing forever I would struggle to find me.


© Thom Amundsen 3/2021

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