My Lonely Hell

The house echos with my empty hell My working day rots with no-one to tell Memories are my comfort as I weep The TV is the false company I keep This sofa welcomes no-one to sit The space is declined, rejected, now made inadequate The cold kitchen hosts invisible culenry actions An empty room filled with silence that deafens Evenings draw in on a blank canvus Creating a false parallel universe that's hurtful and callus The laptop fabricates my social life A poor immitation for the divorcee's night life This bedroom beckons my retreat My anxious mind accompanies me to sleep The lonely mornings call me to wake Releasing me from desperate thoughts of my mistakes There is no doubt I can conclude That another day dawns assurance of solitude.