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