~~the Beatles
Eleanor Rigby
he sits alone in his room
contemplating solitary confinement
{death becomes you, you know
as do the voices in your head}
like Eleanor Rigby, nobody notices
and no one remembers his name
and no one will come when his time is done
save for a solo miscreant preacher
taking the afternoon off from immorality
to perform his civic duty
{did you know youre not supposed to talk about such things?
its not appropriate
}
hes never been rejected or hated or ridiculed
never been in love or missed or delighted
this lone man says not a word; to anyone
on any day or any year
his memories are those he makes up in his head
or those he sees out his foggy window
isolated in daydreams of nothing
a cracked smile spreads across his nobody face
forgotten memories of a childhood lay in the wasteland that is his being
loneliness crept in, a long time ago
stealing his brilliance and leaving him with naught
he himself does not even remember what it is like
to converse with anyone save himself
and he does not realize his purpose here was aborted
that first day he ceased to exist
and there is more to his story
why he is the recluse he is
but it doesnt matter
you wont remember him anyway
