Solitary Existence Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Here we are, filling our minds with dirt and grime.
Whatever happened to the little things in life that
give us pleasure?
Where have we hidden them?
They were always so precious and dear - we used to
hold them close to our hearts and souls.
When did our lives change?
How did we let the world change our images?
When did we become the sins of other's pain-filled
realities?
So forlorn, we all live in solitary cells of life,
not reaching out - not becoming our purpose.
Where we will all end up when we keep our eyes
closed from destiny and fate?
In deserts of our solitary existence, how will we
find our future horizons?