The Disease

by Sherree Olson

It is the middle of the night: Alone

And the darkness is a sad sight: Alone...

When your demons you fight: Alone.

Yet so can be the daylight--when alone.

While listening to your heart pound: Alone,

You seek rays of hope as you look around: Alone.

Vulnerability is profound: Alone.

No, nothing so sinister as the sound of alone.

What disease is contained within? Alone.

It is as dark as the chiefest of sins: Alone.

Nobody knows why or it's origin: Alone

Nor can we pinpoint when it begins--this Alone.

No one can fix it; no drug, no friend. Alone.

We are meant, by ourselves, to mend it: Alone.

By God are we placed here; right then, not Alone

Yet we always seem that way to end: Alone.

For years I struggled. Tried. Fought. Alone.

I read. Wrote. Cried. Sought: No, not alone!

Yet even in crowds, I seem to be caught: Alone

I learn much from the lessons taught by Alone.

Still I've YET to know how I came to meet Alone.

I guess one must go deep inside to stop: Alone.

If one has herself, one is not: Alone.

So I'll be safe for that I've got, though alone.

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