Gnome Alone

 

 

I lived at the end of a garden,
In a home that was just okay.
Staring all so often at four walls.
Night follows night; day follows day.
Selling myself short in all so many ways.
Principles and support for others my way,
Life became a hell, it was my self-erected prison cell.
Drifting in thought, maybe for real.
Living in a haze a mixed up world,
A square gnome in a round hole,
Maybe it’s me, do I read it so wrong.
I reach out; there’s nothing to grasp, gone, 
I cry, why, no one sees the pools!
I shout out so many times; it fell among deaf pooled ears.
Is it all in vain, destiny not meant, no avail?
Not even a positive hail, am I really just a gnome alone?