Author's Note: This is in paragraph format on purpose. It's a prose poem, and thus is mean to be written like this.


Crowded Loneliness

A room full of people with voices rising to overpower the other. A party to prove to society you have something to say. I enter, and it seems time stops . . .just for me. The people who chattered away only moments before, are silent. At least, they would think they were silent. If only they could understand how deafening their eyes are as they pierce through my soul. I feel the pain of it as I move to the darkest corner of the crowded room. I hear the questions ringing through my mind. "Why does she always wear black?" "Why is her smile broken?" "Why are her eyes so troubled?" "Why does she linger within the shadows of what she lacks?" As I sit with eyes downcast, my mind reaches out to the eyes, the faces. Searching for answers to those questions I always hear. How much longer will my mind seek an answer? How much longer will I have to wonder why, I feel so alone in a crowd?

10/5/05