The Loner (poem)

By Luke Labern

Twist the bag at its top, weighed down
In grams of stress: for when "to drown"
Becomes an option, when you stand alone --
When your flaws are seen, and wounds are deep...
On one battered knee, but never in the quicksand seep;
There's no escape; only onwards, alone.

Words float within your head,
A choppy sea of insults said...
Hang on with whatever's left; your broken bones.
When you're counted out and left to starve,
That's when you must your future carve.
They want to break you, and your remaining bones.

Fall into the river, struggle for air --
No one to rescue you, no; but do you care?
Aren't there things to attain -- such as the throne?
Put a hand on the grimey, muddy bank.
Think how easily you could have sank.
Soaking wet and tired, but heading for the throne.

Great men fight when they don't have to,
They don't back down in the face of what's new:
In isolation, they become the best, alone.
This is goodbye, to those that tried:
I did not break, even if I cried.
You need support, but I walk alone...

And that's the only way I've ever known.