Stranded on an Island: a poem

Staff Writer
I have what I need, but not what I yearn,
But for stranded on an island, I could be worse,
I mean the view’s bleak as gravy, but I have enough to eat,
And the sand wreaks like pretty bad, but at least it’s a beach,
And it’s not like I don’t have people, I have some faces,
That visit me sometimes, and share their voices,
Like this one friend, who I talk just about whatever,
Because he won’t tell anyone, and so I rant what I’d whisper,
Or this other friend, who breeds what I’ve bred,
Who’s just been there before, and understands what I’ve said,
And I’ve broken bread with Grim, He asked me “Whaddup,”
He was cloaked like the night, when I told him, “Not much,”
And things are still okay, after all has been said and done,
For I still live on this island, and I drag on because,
Making friends is hard anyways, telling people your name and what you do,
Asking about their day, and things like “Hey, how are you?”
Then they want you to listen, about their problems and their qualms,
And the things they’d do differently, and how it wasn’t their fault,
I guess it’s just lucky for me, that I didn’t have to bear those problems,
Because my friends were right here, until I gained the knowledge,
That this island I’m on, the one that I call home,
Was home to one, and that I’ve been alone.