The Lonely

Sitting in the dark, I listen to the soundless calls of the lonely
Thick clouds withhold the hope of the shining stars
For another night perhaps, another eye or another soul
Forsaken by love, feigning comfort in solitude, and sad

Dark the cries of the lonely, harsh and rasping in pain
Longing for love lost or love hidden, suffocating in despair
As barren as a vast desert, hot, relentless and unforgiving
That even the tears run dry, like the love that was meant to be

Cruel, wicked and evil, the forces that have caused the effect
Yet long are the scars, with wounds beneath never to heal
Branded onto the soul of the lonely, that forever so shall be
The ultimate sentence that ignores the constant pleas for mercy

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