August 8, 2014; Alone

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I like the beginning but the end is kinda meh

Submitted: August 08, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 08, 2014



When I was five,

I thought being alone

Was sitting in the backseat on a drive,

Or standing in an outfield by myself.


When I was thirteen,

I thought it was staying home on Friday nights,

For not having my room clean

And going to bed at ten.


When I was fifteen,

I could've sworn alone

Was synonomous with staying up all night on caffiene

And not having a date to a dance.


Now, being alone

Is wishing on stars,

Blowing on dandelions,

And counting cars.


It's staying up 'til 4 AM,

Crying, screaming, shivering

My world in mayhem

And my sanity slipping.


Being alone is having lost you

And not knowing what to do.

Having to move on

Accepting the fact you're gone.

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