Curl Dawn

The body heat that warms my sheets a little before dawn
Cradles me with cotton arms of which I am the spawn
The blue blank night impassively cares not if I exist
What’s it to me? I curl so tight in introverted bliss.

I am a solitary beast; my best friend is my head.
At night, it’s my conscience that tucks me into bed.

One fall morning, all alone, I amble on the beach,
Gazing at a group of friends engrossed in rapid speech.
It’s so sad that they don’t see the joys of being free.
When you’re young and all alone, no one tells you how to be.

I am a solitary beast; my best friend is my head.
For fun, why buy a book when I can think instead?

People talk and people play with friendship as their goal
Wanting, longing, looking for someone to share their soul.
Why do people lust after illusive amity
When simply standing all alone can give you clarity?