Despaire of a Solitary Mind

In this dark hour, I find myself alone,

With naught but thoughts, that swirl, and ebb, and flow.

A tempest, in my soul, that will not cease,

And in this turmoil, I find no release.

My mind, doth search, for answers, high and low,

But still, the questions, do remain, unclear.

And I, a castaway, upon life's shore,

With naught, but doubt, and fear, and nothing more.

And yet, I find, no solace, from my friends,

For they, have lost, the art, of conversation.

And I, a voice, that cries, within the wind,

With naught, but emptiness, and desperation.

So here, I stand, in this, my hour of need,

With none, to ease, the burden of my creed.