The pain of solitude is slowly eating at my soul,
tearing me apart and leaving just a gaping hole.
Once I loved mankind but now I simply can't control
the jealousy and hatred that prevents me being whole.

The icy hands of loneliness have grabbed me by the throat.
Though I yell and choke, there is no one taking note.
All I hear is my own echo, distant and remote,
Screaming silently these anguished verses that I wrote.
Oneironaut Reviewed by Oneironaut on . Any Poets Here? Does anybody else here write poetry? Share your work here! Come on, don't be discouraged by the fact that you're probably insane if you're good at poetry. Here's a poem I wrote recently that I call "The Mystery Of Misery": On Christmas morn a child wakes to find her mother dead in a pool of scarlet red with a bullet through her head. In Israel, a bus explodes because a pious man thinks his god made a command to kill the Jews upon his land. Rating: 5