What is this thing that poisons all our hope,
That keeps us separated, leaves us ache
For human touch? We work so hard to cope
With the loneliness we endure. We make
Excuses to ourselves that we can deal
With the pain of isolation. We lie
To each other, pretending that we feel
As if this isn’t cause enough to cry
Out in desperation. To those we crave,
The pain of separation is acute.
We fool ourselves, pretending to be brave,
But longing for one touch is absolute.
The solitude we treasured for so long
Is overwhelmed by a need to belong