Solitude is best when it’s chosen
Chosen silence
Chosen emptiness
Chosen coldness
But even my choice of solitude is not mine to have.
My aloneness is something that I must fight to have
Something that I must steal away like a thief in the night
Stolen quickly, enjoyed even faster
Scarfed down like food to a starving man
But it is mine…
At least it should be
Maybe I have forgotten the feeling of ownership
My person has become community property
Wrong to do anything other than accept
“No” has been deleted from my vocabulary unless put there by others.
I do not belong to myself, so what can possibly belong to me?

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