Lone light in my eyes,

the end of the mud path.

Lone sound of my shoe

drowning in a brown puddle.

Lone dance on a stage

from a practised mind

Lone dance without a stage

from an euphoric heart.

Lone clicking of the tongue

killing the violent silence.

Lone blinking of the eyelids -

we are only slaves of our bodies.

Lone stretching arms

in protest to the routine

Lone book flung on the floor

same letters, same lines, same spaces.

A lone pen writes,

no one notices.

I see the lone wolf cry,

but no one notices

the same painful roar

strangling their voices.

I had posted this poem a while back but I felt like going back to it and fixing it. So here it is again, all better