Loneliness
A well of hope, a hand that gives,
I pour myself so others live.
An endless stream of borrowed light,
That leaves me hollow in the night.
I wear the mask, its layers deep,
A vibrant face I force to keep,
While whispering that it’s enough
To watch the world be full of love.
But in the quiet, questions start:
When will the healing find my heart?
When will a gift arrive for me,
Unprompted, pure, and boundlessly?
Even surrounded by the kind,
A phantom hunger plagues my mind.
This desperate need to be embraced
Has left me fractured and displaced.
I am so tired of the shield,
Of fighting on a lonely field.
When can I lay my weapons down,
And trade for peace this heavy crown?
To just be seen, distinct and whole,
And loved for what is in my soul.
If this is loneliness, it burns.
A cycle waiting for its turn.