There’s just something about solitude that brings ease,
sometimes seclusion is all my lonely soul requires.
When the suffering in silence brings me to my knees,
I feel a private escape is all my detached soul desires.

Solitariness can be quite beautiful if allowed in serenity,
each bone in my body aches to be quieted and subdued.
I inhale gently and try to drown in sweet tranquility,
hoping to erase my sequestered and forlorn mood.

When abandoned by the world I can become reclusive,
I start to wish I could retire from the chaos of existence.
My internal confinement starts to become exclusive
as I have a dream to live a life without resistance.

I find pulchritude in the splendour of isolation,
I hold confidence that being by myself will relieve
my troubled mind giving me a mitigating sensation,
though some call me ludicrous and naïve.

So, when I feel I need a retreat from all that drains,
I pursue depths that heal until only solitude remains.