Complications

The complications that arise,

Of heart, of soul, of love and life.

The sad truths of being alone.

The hurts and aches, the future unknown.

Fickle, unsettling, the heart and its yearning,

Solitude and serenity, loneliness and lesser learnings.

The comfort of being with oneself, 

And the agony of having no-one else.

At these cross roads, at these forks,
At this stage, at this phase with no quirks.
I look for a helping hand, a shoulder to shed my tears on.
And I watch as onto the ground, the stream of tears drops on.

How these knots arose, I have no clue.
But suddenly I question everything that I believed was true.
And lost in these knots and ties, I forgot the real world.
I forget who I was, I no longer remember my own words.

There is a heaviness in my heart, I feel nothing but pain.
And hurt, the never-ending ache my heart feels on each beat and again.
Life is changing, and I don't care why.
What is unclear is how will I?