| The solitude echoes |
| through my lonely shattered mind, |
| its emptiness consuming me |
| and eating me to the rind. |
| You'd think that after years of heartbreak |
| and constant disappointment, |
| that I'd be used to this by now |
| and take it in stride with valiance. |
| But no instead I drag still more |
| with each and every step, |
| for bruised and battered as I am |
| I'm on a march to my soul's death. |