The Lonely Man Written 11/23/98

There stood a lonely man sitting in the darkest corner of his cold empty room. All the bright lights turned out. The solid wood floor was freezing in which he sat. He shivered slightly as he crawled into a defenseless looking ball. Not a single person seemed to care. There was no on there to stop his shiny warm tears falling from his face. He cries tears that are full of pain, regret, haunting memories, and the fright that has blackened his soul. His hands were shaky while he was digging his dirty broken nails into his back, just to feel puncturing of the flesh. His arms grasped himself tightly as if there was no tomorrow. No one seemed to understand all of the pain he was going through. His own self image began to fade away until he saw nothing in the reflection in the mirror. As he brought his fist forward, he broke that mirror, slicing his had deeply and bleeding the pain with blood. Pieces of that broken mirror reflected the moonlight that had been phasing its way through the dirty window and unto his face. He brings those old cold shaky hands they feel so heavy and oh so old, he rushes them forward wiggling his fingers with might pulling away all the dead hair hanging from sorrowed face. Then he wipes the wetness from his face, smearing dirt of unwashed hands. His eyes no longer a sparkling blue but a deep dark gray, so gray you could see the rainy skies within. He sees all his hope has run dry. He cannot find the light. He is now finally ready to say his good bye. If only one person was there, one person to seem to care, only one. His shivering stops and he slowly closes his grey eyes.... the moonlight fades away slowly. the warm tears turn cold. he takes that final breath all alone and his warmth goes cold.