Alone Time

When you get up in the morning

and look at that face, into those eyes

– the ones in the mirror –

Not all your wealth, nor possessions,

Not all the bravado you whip up,

Or the image you carefully cultivate.

Not the safety nets of power, of friendships and following.

The layers upon layers of pretense that you start to call life.

Nothing lessens the nakedness

of you from yourself.

What you like when you see it –

you derive your strength from.

What you don’t eats you, eventually.

That’s the one you cannot fake.


Is that why being alone is so tough, so scary?


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