“Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe (1875) – Anthology & Interpretation

“Alone” by Edgar Allan Poe (1875)

Forom childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were – I have not seen
As others saw – I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow – I could not awaken
My heart to joy at same tone —
And all I lov’d – I lov’d alone–
Then – in my childhood – in the dawn
Of a most stormy life – was drawn
Form ev’ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that ‘round me roll’d
In its autumn tint of gold —
Form the lightning in the sky
As it pass’d me flying by —
From thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —

My Interpretation

I sit in the corner of my hell.
Lost in the mind that once
Guided me. Lost in the home
Of my own thoughts.

Now they chain me, torment me,
Stick me in a cage and laugh.
They laugh as the tormentors of my current state.

I search for a saving grace, an
Angel. But each time I turn my head
To the hanging light bulb in my concrete
Prison, the voices only get louder.

They get louder and stronger until they
Shake the foundations of my mind.
The bulb shakes and the walls crack.

But I stay sitting, never moving.
Eyes bloodshot from the sleepless
Slumber I am in. Both the truth and
And the lies, alike, bounce off my rotting soul.

Leaving me there shaking in the fear of my own home.

I sit in my waste of prophecies told
And failures made. Like
The good I once was – fell through the
Cracks of my once solid walls.

My home was once filled with light, the
Sound of birds echoed through the
Glass windows and the sun rays
Rejuvenated my soul.

But that was before the earth-quake
That sunk my room to the basement.
I fell upwards forever. Never
Knowing, never processing,
Never thinking.

My soul that was once whole now
Shook at the sight of my cosmic
Shadow. Frantically trying to remember
The feeling of sunlight dancing on my skin.

Desperate attempts to claw my way
Out. But my cries fell on empty ears,
For at this time, the sound of cruel
Criticisms filled my hall – rolling over
The episodes that filled my life.

Surrounded in darkness I fought
The voices. Like a trained lawyer I
Fought the words with counter-
Arguments and truth.

My desperation cripples my resolve.
My own fight broke me into the
Shriveling, sniveling waste I am now.
The cruel words turned into laughter at
My defeat.

I found the light bulb in the darkness
In search of a promise I could hold onto.
So now my living hell is alight with the
Crimson I cried.

I sit defeated, broken and lost.
For I got lost in the home that I though
Was my haven – with no place left to go.

It is now in my story I should tell you
Of the magic man that saved my rotting soul.
That I am now living amongst the birds and
Sunlight.But alas it is not so. I tell my story in my
Upside down home buried deep underground.
Driven by madness, the crimson bulb holds the
Last of the waste I created.

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