Posted in Literary Pieces, Poems

Alone in Winter

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; 
It tolls for thee.

– John Donne, No Man is an Island

It makes me grieve so much
as I see myself
Engulfed by the wintry
Realms of darkness
Bathed in the frosty
Waters of loneliness
Basked in the freezing
Breath of sadness
Silenced by the cold
Notes of solitude
Oh, how dare life can be
Awfully harsh to me
To be who I wanted to be
Endless sorrow’s for me
I’ll weep onto everything
As winter stings on me
Till my warm last breath
Finally gets off me
I know that
I know all the time
I’m alone—
I’m all alone.
On this day
I’ll gladly turn
Into a lonely, wintry ash
And my tombstone
of ice must say:
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust—
I’m one with the land
the rest it must.”
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