Loneliness

I don’t know what it is

About the human condition

And loneliness

But Bukowski says

There are worse things

Than being alone

Like poverty

War, suicide

And homicide

But loneliness it gnaws 

At the soul

And we crave connection

Like electric wires

And if we’re lucky

We can connect

Them together

Creating a bright spark

And the loneliness

That we’re so used to

Will sound like a soft echo

In the distance

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