Title: Living Lonely
by Jessamy from Essex | in writing, poetry
Sitting alone, as I wept with fear,
Icicles stabbed me as knives,
This could not be a career.
Living lonely, laid loosely on the damp coldness of death.
Mountains, no place for man, beast,
Only winds, rain and snow,
Not even berries for feast,
Living lonely, laid loosely on the damp coldness of death.
Trekking up blizzards and ice,
Making sickness death,
And lollies from mice,
Living lonely, laid loosely on the damp coldness of death.
No one for comfort, no one to see
But I had to make it there
Go where there is no man or tree,
Living lonely, laid loosely on the damp coldness of death.
Just steep falls behind,
And pure white in front,
Such open air but loathing of confined
Living lonely, laid loosely on the damp coldness of death.
well i wrote a story, similar to this and both inspirations were from war.
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