In a world of chaos

Some are choosing their blues

The big ones, the little ones

And they ponder in recluse

So be wary and considerate

That you know not their fate

For some have slept

Only to wake and walk

Walking, but not existing

For some have dreamt

A thousand dreams, yet still sulk

Moping in misery

And for some, they are hoping

For a glimpse of a miracle

Hands clasped tightly

As they mumble prayers of petition

And as for the writer,

She cries out for reassurance

Tonight, feeling weighted more

By the littlest of blues

My Own Best Friend

Nothing like a listener

Who’ll understand your heart

Nothing like a fella who respects your solitude

Nothing like the perfect partner to see the world with

Nothing like being your own best friend

The loner retreats but is in good company

Who knows the next hour, who knows tomorrow

But he surely knows how to make time stop

Every second meaningful, every night laden with colorful dreams

Don’t say the loner is lonely

There is wealth and lush potential in the quietness of his aura