That proverbial “third wheel” syndrome,
a companion in solitude,
haunts the poet’s heart,
a feeling that clings like shadows,
never quite shaken off.
In crowded spaces, they feel distant,
a shaman stepping back from the scene,
a witness to love’s tender embrace,
while longing stirs like the wind.
With each verse penned, they mark the ache,
attempting to erase the alienation,
finding solace in ink,
crafting lines that bind their solitude,
transforming isolation into art.
I always felt that way Bravo!!!!! Check out my poem Permnant Reckoning and comment on it Please Thanx