Is there anyone out there?
Yelling down the pitch black hall
I wondered if they were there?
Do they hear my calls?
Solitude to overcome .
Are they friends?
Or long days to overcome?
Talking to myself in black and white .
The verbal communication is what I write.
Jaded from the passing time.
Keeping myself company
with this rhyme.
Shadow figures on the wall .
The movement
light dancing ,
Is the call .
Entertainment on whim.
My mind is cluttered
My loneliness is my sin.
Echoes of a time to pass
My solitude is what I grasp
Wicked is this curse
For with my self
I shall converse .
By Scott baker
