My solitude beckons me,
It mocks me every night,
And I, the prey,
Wrap myself in my words,
They surround me, my words,
They take me away,
Yet I know it hunts,
My solitude,
for my broken excuse,
of a broken soul,
That runs away from his fate.
each time i used to read smaller articles which also clear their
motive, and that is also happening with this paragraph which I am reading at this time.