To Paint A Picture Of The Lonely Poem by Matthew Densley

Like rafts adrift in ice cold water
We seem as cattle marked for slaughter
Tears drip, like blood from butcher's knives
Into the vacuum of our lives

Just as is the Ténéré tree
We're rooted down and never free
Far away from life we stand
In the middle of a desert land

A distant star in outer space
Whose shinning light you can replace
There's nothing here but rocks and dust
Nothing here to love nor lust

Like grains of sand parted from the beach
With no wisdom to be taught or teach
No wind which home, we can be blown
We lie here suff'ring all alone

Seclusion is cold dark cave
In which the outcasts dig their grave
No headstones needed here for us
No one will morn nor cause a fuss

To paint a picture of the lonely
There'll be no colour, just grey only
No bright red rose or field of green
Just a derelict building, left unclean






'To Paint A Picture Of The Lonely' Copyright © 2009 Matthew Densley
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