by Chris Breva
A poem about being alone
When one lives alone there are rules
Keeping one's mind occupied is a must
Living alone is a game of fools
I do so and find it a bust.
Nobody to talk to all day long
Errands I must run alone
The boredom knows no end
The loneliness one cannot atone.
Never hearing another voice except TV
One could lose one's mind
Trav'ling elsewhere I serve
No other solution can I find.
I like my own company most days
I simply must find other ways.