"I am lonely, lonely.
I am lonely, lonely.
I am lonely, lonely."

I was born to be lonely.
I'd wake and hear the cold- splintering, breaking-
and slowly I would rise and dress.

I was born to be lonely.
A child's blood so red,
fear the chronic anger of this house.

I was born to be lonely,
and watch light slowly close
against the yellow drawn shades.

I was born to be lonely,
dance naked grotesquely,
on water I'm not sure is there.

I was born to be lonely,
What did I know? What did I know?
But that's all right.

"I am lonely, lonely.
I am lonely, lonely.
I am lonely, lonely."

I was born to be lonely.
But that's all right.



* This is a cento. That means this poem is comprised of lines from other poets works:
Danse Russe by William Carlos Williams
Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden
Whose Mouth Do I Speak With by Suzanne Rancourt
My Father's Hat by Mark Irwin
Father's Song by Gregory Orr

This was done for the site Patchwork Poetry.