I come home to an empty house, an empty room
by Lilibeth Sacmar Apat
There's no one about me, not a single soul
I've no one to talk to except someone on the phone
But it seldom rings, though I wish so hard it would.
I feel the loneliness of my soul, the hallowness in my heart
The emptiness in each new day that passes me by so fast
I guess I'm surviving, by some miracle somehow
But existing is not living, it's not enough being alive.
My days are filled with worries that shouldn't have been mine
I'm tired but it's not the body, it's in the spirit down deep inside
I can't concentrate on my work, or anything that I try
Seems I aged a lot in days, and lost my peace of mind.