Alone again inside it seems.
With plastic friends and broken dreams.
I sit in empty darkness beyond measure.
Today just like so many things.
Has ended lost and incomplete.
I failed to reach the special place I treasure.
True happiness is what I seek.
Still I remain a lucid freak.
I write of life with no real love or pleasure.
I write because if I would scream.
No one would hear the words from me.
I'm lost inside this dark cold world forever.
Mark Normand's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Still by Mark Normand )
- Make in India, gajanan mishra
- Respectable, Dean Meredith
- Artists, kassem oude
- दिनैनि गोसोखांथियाव, Ronjoy Brahma
- Make others do, gajanan mishra
- MY FEELINGS FOR YOU, AMADU KAMARA
- From Gandhiji's Quotes for Gandhi Jayanthi, Dr John Celes
- Seeing, Aparna Chatterjee
- O American Girl, Will You Take With You?, Bijay Kant Dubey
- A Woman in Love, Akhtar Jawad
Poem of the Day
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- Philip Booth
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- Heather Burns
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)