Excommunicated Poem by David Harris

There are times in my life
I feel I have been excommunicated.
I write to what I suppose are friends,
but never get a reply.
I telephone with similar results,
which leaves me thinking
what the hell is wrong with me?

I recently started a personal book
called my letters to the departed
in which I write to late friends
whom would have answered me
if they had not passed away.
My life has become a sad affair
with only blank paper to talk to.

I’ve always been a quiet man,
reserved in many ways,
but I’ve always tried to raise
a smile on every face I meet.
Loneliness has been my partner
ever since I was very young,
but never have I found out why?