On My Own… Alone

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July 6, 2004 by phillipfrost

On My Own… Alone


As the last snowflake falls upon the eve of winters end.

I envy it.

It is the last of what my heart feels.


It is only what I can see.


This is only thing present.

Surrounded by this heavy feeling of what I am…


I pass my days under the shade of a weeping willow.

Not even the song bird will sing to me.

All I hear is the hallowed winds softly blowing through the dangling vines.

Sometimes… when I am…


I sit on an old wooden fence to watch the busy world others not being so…


I rather decline a ride then abide to a lifestyle that isn’t mine.

I am alone

I am misunderstood.

Why do I scribe this?

When is it going to end?

Let us rush this and make it end.

World is against me.

No one listens.

No one really cares.

I translate my tears through poetic language.

It may seem like a lie

But why would I bother?

Am just the same,


Without a father,

In a world of problems,

On my own

Alone… is what I feel,

Alone… is what I am,

I still am just as I still was yesterday…


© Phillip Frost 2013

Tuesday, July 6th 2004 6:29pm


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