Solitude is where I find the greatest concentration of pleasure yet I'm all alone, just me, my thoughts and silence golden, mind often wanders to places completely unknown no fences just green grass and harmony, I roam.
Twisted as the veins that tangle and weave confinement is as strong as the material used to entwine, my paradise is a state of mind, I like it alot sometimes, and then there are the days when loneliness takes over and I want to let someone in but alas I'm my own island.
Sailing on the open seas searching high and low for someone who thinks like me, not sick or contagious or immune system deficient but I promise this state of serene feels much like quarantine and I fight, I fight with me, my inner strength, my feminist.
I walk until my feet can stand no more and when I stop I'm at a place with what seems like many doors I have my choice of which one to enter in, my paradise is a wilderness and the trees are my view, my shade, my sustenance, for fruit hangs from every one.
Isolation is a wonderful place for me, problems that surround the body in the distance can't reside near me for they drag, deplete, and discourage. I'm trying to encourage the masses they resist and I must withdraw my island paradise doesn't want your emptiness.
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