By Izzah Husna
One could find themselves lost,
As they wander in the maze of solitude.
When their soles blister and only
Their voices echoed back when they
Sing the birdsong for salvation. No one.
At times, freedom bore loneliness.
The wild, picturesque escape to
Succumb to one’s own desire
Becomes a leg-hold trap that maim,
Painfully, slowing them down to a stop.
And so the news hit them like the wind–
Within the silence, they figured, how
One’s solitude may be their own funeral
And one’s funeral may end, in solitude.
Commentary by Author:
Fun fact, this work was inspired by Charles Bukowski’s quote: “and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?”
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