The Loner

I'm the loner looking in the dusty old window, tears running down my face full of worries, thoughts being shared to a journal rather than a person. Tears filling the dark hole on the ground creating a muddy bird bath, thoughts cluttering your mind full of worries barley big enough to hold them all. As if filling a cup twice the size of it without anything fuming out. The loner isn't bad, until the experience of the loner. Deep thick thoughts cluttering your mind, with no way out, just darkness awaits, until the eyes meet with daylight, which is like sun and moon touching.