Man is no social animal.
It is a myth perpetuated
By the weak among Men.
Man was made to be lonely.
Alone in wombs and graves;
And the most solitary
In the years between.
Society is a farce.
Like the shadow that
Surfaces only when everything’s
Bright and sunny.
We are all lone wolves.
Truly alone, and
Are there days in your calendar
That are empty?
Are there thoughts so loud in your head
That refuse to let you sleep?
Are there lists with little check-boxes
That taunt you?
Are there hours and days and years
That were swallowed anonymously?
Are there others with lives and dreams and achievements
That make yours seem small?
Are there any traces of the child and the teenager
That you once were?
Are there ways to change the heart
That won’t wound you and bleed you to death?
Are there words within you, deep within you
That have forgotten how to be born through your hand?
Are you there anymore?
Do you exist?