Words fail me as I sit to write,
My feelings, my thoughts,
My views on what I call life.
Not many know what its like,
To feel the way I do,
It’s a lot more than just strife.
Confusions are just the beginning,
Dreams are just that, dreams
And life always remains a mystery.
More than the hunger for love,
Or of that for success,
It’s in the present as much as in history.
Not a soul to open up to,
To feel just what I feel,
Loneliness is here to stay.
For the recluse of the timid,
For the saddened soul,
Loss of words is a big price to pay.