The lonely man

Once upon a time there was a man who lived in the back woods, in a home all alone by him self. This man never really liked people, as he never grew up around them. This home he lived in, he had lived in all his life. So thus being so far from every one, he had no friends, no life, no one even knew he was alive. The only ones he knew were his mom and dad, and they taught him everything. But as he got older, so did they and eventually they died. This man never went into town. He hardly left his home, except to get food. So everything he had he had to work for. He thought he had everything but something always felt like it was missing. But he never knew what it was, as this was all he knew. It’s hard to live with out really having a life, or a wife, living alone, on a patch of stone that’s always been your home. Never going one hundred feet from the land you own, screaming at night not knowing why, and only hearing an echo from the reverberation off the stone. It’s hard to live a life when you’re madly insane, hearing voices in your head at night when it rains. Missing something but never knowing what, missing something but never knowing what. As he grows older the madness only gets stronger, he screams longer, louder stronger. Ripping at his home tell it becomes as cluttered as his mind. A home reflects an owner’s soul and capacity to deal with time. Clawing at the walls with hairy bear paws, screaming at the moon in June, bleeding from the eyes of one who cries of never knowing loves tune, smelling of birch and crap covered earth, falling down like due to the ground, insanity growing more cause of a love that never passed through his door. Now at the end one breath left, pray to god before your death, curl up on the floor with a picture of mom and dad, tears in his eyes oh so sad. As you fade from his plain into the next, you feel at peace now, no longer love loran or neglect. A smile for a change crosses his lips. What was missing is now found, what was missing was him lying dead on the ground. He found out that the end of existence isn’t quite so bad.

“Peaceful are the dead.” – Sun Dragon 2003

By: Sun Dragon 1/4/03
© 2002. all rights reserved Sun Dragon Art.