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Illusions of Loneliness

By Wild Rose Cherry

Copyright © 2018 by Wild Rose Cherry

Published at Smashwords by Wild Rose Cherry

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Table of Contents

Title Page

An Abyss

Pennies for My Soul

The Perfectionist's Dilemma


I am Weak


Last Things First

Truth is all Lies: Conspiracies

This Bird Won't Fly


The Lonesome Judge

The Resolution: A Song for Robin

More by Wild Rose Cherry

Illusions of Loneliness

An Abyss

I see an abyss before me,

Dark, sentinels within it,

Calling me, to taunt, torment,

Like the sadists upon Lot.

Angels have forsaken me,

I am left to stare into the crevasse,

And wait for the rains to come,

And purge this world of its evil.

The end is nigh – oh,

I could shout it to the world,

But it listens not,

Deaf to its own death rattle.

Can I find the courage,

The spirit? Where's the magic,

Now that I am older, and wiser?

When will I explore the abyss,

And die with that old earth,

Sink down back into soil,

Turning death into life again?

When will I open the door,

With its black crack along the floor,

And fly into the abyss,

Joining others in their living,

And leave these four walls behind me?

Pennies for My Soul

I sold my soul to the devil,

And now I am lonely.

Change rattling in the bank,

Shiny coins, leathery bills,

Smelling of my palms' sweat.

When will the money love me back?

People, I feel, have no worth to me-

Life has no price,

There's no value to this earth;

All I need is a fix -

A money fix.

Clink in the bank,

Currency gliding as I count it -

A chequebook to balance -

I love the simplicity of money's accounts,

I'm waiting still,

For the money to love me back.

I might love gambling,

Or cocaine,

Or absinth, or thrills to make me high -

I've lost the touch,

The connection to others,

I've lost.

I wish I knew,

That I was once loved by another,

I wish I grew,

Into a less lonesome shape.

The Perfectionist's Dilemma

I wish I was someone's hero,

I'd wake up famous every day.

I wish there was a star named for me,

Or that all good signs pointed my way.

I need to be great, somehow,

If I'm to be counted by others.

I need to save someone's life,

Before I die in this house of mirrors.

My cracked face is what people see,

Not the dreamer who would heal,

Maybe if I just reached out and touched,

Greatness is what I would feel.


Am I not a fool to let others look into my heart?

They will see tears, the blood of others, and darkness.

I am all wounds, and the life is fading from my eyes -

What do they see now, as I collapse into the sand?

They circle above, those morbid creatures, coming down,

As my head drops between my knees.

I am such a child! Someone said so not long ago.

I am belittled, and so I beat myself senseless,

And lie prone for the spirit vultures to arrive,

For they will come, and tear at my half-living self.

I am so passive! People have said so,

What to do but give up to the vultures,

Those that bite when I'm down,

And dying, as they would have it.

My sister-vulture, and roommate-vulture,

Have me to the edge,

Waiting for me to roll into the ravine.

Am I so powerless, as a child?

No. Not now, or ever.

I stand from the sand,

Walk away, alive, and the vultures retreat.

Now kinder spirits wait for me to join the milieu -

I can always fly away from the desert of the dying.

I am Weak

I haven't the strength to carry on.

Go on without me, world,

I can't get this boulder of self-pity

Off my caving chest.

Remember me, not as one who gave up,

But as one who was easily overwhelmed

By the troubles of life.

Can I help it if I'm weak?

Remember me as one you would celebrate,

If only I had escaped the shadows of my past.


They lie in the grass everywhere,

Waiting for one such as me to spring at.

They are my enemies -

Past, present, and future foes,

Who outsmart me – though they are stupid.

Those who work to build,

Are distracted by their tasks,

And do not notice the machinations

Of the evil all about.

Time after time, they defeat me,

At least as I anticipate things now,

Dwelling on my adolescent memories,

Of being trounced with cruelty -


I must be.

I will be.

I must re-enter the world,

Brave like the warrior within me,

Knowing that it's true -

Many snakes lie in the grass.

Bravery wards off the evil,

And to act, to be, is the way of courage.

(And if a snake tries to bite, its fangs will meet armour.)

No longer trapped in hesitation, I stride out my door,

Knowing that my desire for life will prevail,

And that courage leads to confidence,

Though I am human,

Troubled by my growing list of failings,

But better for knowing that I will die again,

And again,

Then rise up out of the ashes of my solitary past.

Last Things First

I'm not going anywhere,

Until I solve the world's problems.

There's one I see out there -

Not enough love can be found.

Of all the challenges to our survival,

I keep coming back to this:

There's not enough love in this world.

(Not enough love in my world.)

Would love solve the problems?

A world crowded beyond belief,

Has need for more just love -

Perhaps the love would be found,

If first the problems were fixed?

Not enough love in this world.

(Not enough love in my world.)

Truth is all Lies: Conspiracies

If a mind wanders through the labyrinth of existence, a person discovers that we can comprehend very little, and if we are so limited in knowledge, then perhaps anything can be true. An open mind asks good questions; a distressed mind might find wrong answers. It might be futile to point out that a society with vigorous and extensive information networks knows with clarity – at least, if you ask the recognized experts.

The perfectionist expectations of the isolated can play havoc with individuals, communities and democracy itself: People get “news” from social media, and spurn the accredited journalists, simply because the accredited journalist is sometimes wrong (and admits it.)

When people search for truth in all the wrong places, they likely aren't part of the information network. Delusions are extremely common in the persistently lonely, and the widespread inability to distinguish between good sources of information and poor sources is a manifestation of the dissolution of community in our society, where suffering can be found everywhere and on so many levels. Education alone is not the answer to fixing the growing phenomenon of delusion in society – a rethinking of our daily and lifelong priorities is required.

If you count yourself among the lonely, then get out there and be part of the solution to the growing phenomenon of loneliness. Your insights and ideas could be crucial to other people, and when they circulate, contribute to the social debate on community life. Remember: Reducing your own loneliness also reduces the loneliness of other people. If enough people work together on this problem, it can be solved.

This Bird Won't Fly

Can I pull back from the edge,

Or will I wait for the vertigo to come?

My life is a melted gold ring,

A diamond that is not forever,

I am not one of the winners,

Though they say such talk is juvenile,

I am waiting, I am waiting,

And still I do not fall down.

My death will be a tragedy,

A spirit that was snuffed out,

I have no recourse in afterlife,

And still I wait for the gust of wind,

The crumbling of rocks,

To take me spiralling down at last.

Free of the sturdy ground,

I will race through the air to my destination,

A twisted skeleton with skin and sinew ruptured,

A sad sight to some, and for others who won't fly,

A symbol of hope.


How you blinded me with your cruel pranks,

Left me soft and palatable to those who prey,

Spun around, knocked down, trampled on,

I was nothing but the crack in the sidewalk,

The leftovers in the garbage,

I was humiliated into numbness.

Now, I am mending,

I can see what you did to me,

And you'll not know I can see you now,

For the past is gone, and Theresa dear,

Your power over me is gone as well.

The Lonesome Judge

They said I was not good enough,

But they didn't know the day would come,

When I would turn my back on this world,

And spurn the columns of fools, the gutters of scum,

Who came my way, smiling their crooked lies at me,

Only to say, I wasn't good enough.

Of course I look down on them now,

From this lonely place,

And see that it was they, not I,

Who were unfit for this world.

They were no good, as I was no good,

And there is no good at all.

The circle is complete,

And I am trapped within it.

The Resolution: A Song for Robin

You were there, within me,

When you didn't yet know the pain,

And when you felt what life could be,

You began to grow and make gains.

The growing pains never go away,

They go deeper when we don't strive,

Our spirit tires from the weight,

Remember me as one who made you alive.

If you doubt that I loved you so,

That I would carry you about in my heart,

Then look in my eyes and see the love,

The hope in me that we never will part.

You never come to the dance floor,

And swirl around in my arms anymore,

I know its time to let you go,

So you can find for yourself what love is for.

Sometime when you are alone,

A seed will sprout in your eyes,

A spirit will be felt all about you,

As this aging woman finally dies.

There is no word for what I have known,

Seeing inside you, watching where you've blown,

I want to say what cannot be said,

I am proud and amazed at what I have sown.

The end

More Poetry by Wild Rose Cherry

To date, there are six other volumes of poetry by Wild Rose Cherry.

You can find them at fine Ebook retailers everywhere, or you can go to the Smashwords store, read her interview, and peruse the books there:

Wild Rose Cherry at Smashwords

Thanks for reading!

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