The Meaning of Being Lonely

I speak to myself when I’m alone,
I walk down the railings of my memory,
I calculate what I have got and which place is still empty.

I’m far away from my surroundings, although I’m amongst it,
Stare with my eyes wide open and try to feel the bit.

They laugh, they play, and they dance
But I’m always in a trance.
They say I’m lost, taken away by my silence
I think I’m not lost, but try to understand them with patience.

Am I lonely? I don’t have the answer
They say, “She’s intellectual.”
Somebody adds, “Yes a true pseudo-intellectual.”
I say, “Your views are natural. I’m confused of myself.”

If thoughts differ, if thoughts suffer,
Silence can be the best healer.
But I go on searching the answer
“What is the meaning of being lonely?”