All Alone

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I have suffered from Fibromyalgia for 10 years. Like any long term illness, it can be a very lonely and isolating experience. I wrote this one day when I was feeling rather sorry for myself. Cue the violins!

Submitted: March 12, 2016

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Submitted: March 12, 2016

A A A

A A A


 

I’m all on my own here for most of the day,

No one seems to notice, they think I’m okay.

They’re too wrapped up in their own cares and concerns,

To notice someone who for company, yearns.

 

I used to have friends, quite a large social group,

But since I’ve been ill, I’m left out of the loop.

Because I’m not able to dance anymore,

No fun invitations arrive at my door.

 

I try to be cheerful, not bring people down,

No one wants to look at a permanent frown,

Though it’s hard to smile when I’m in constant pain,

I just grin and bear it, try not to complain.

 

My husband has got his own full social life,

With friends and pastimes that don’t involve his wife.

My daughter is busy, glued to her PC,

She doesn’t want company, well not from me.

 

I had a big family, loads of relations,

But they’ve all passed on now, too many cremations.

I don’t have a sibling, no sister or brother,

I coped all alone with the death of my mother.

My father’s dead too - orphaned at 46!

No one to advise me, when I’m in a fix.

 

I tried catching up with old colleagues online,

But they’re all too busy, they can’t spare the time.

I joined social networks, commenting and sharing,

But just got crap chat-up lines, “What are you wearing?”

There are others out there like me, I expect,

But though I keep trying, we fail to connect.

 

I found a new hobby, I started to write,

I post on the internet, a writing site.

Sometimes strangers tell me my work is OK,

I smile, alone at my computer display.

But it’s not the same as somebody I know,

Exclaiming, “Well done, good for you, way to go!”

 

I talk to myself, or I talk to the cat,

I don’t talk to the mirror, she tells me I’m fat.

I used to have fun, I would laugh all the while,

Now it’s only memories that make me smile.

 

Well anyway, that’s enough whining from me,

You’re itching to go, I can quite plainly see.

It can’t be much fun hearing me carp and moan!

Goodbye then.  I’ll just stay right here.  All alone.


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