There is a knocking in the skull, <br />An endless silent shout <br />Of something beating on a wall, <br />And crying, “Let me out!” <br /> <br />That solitary prisoner <br />Will never hear reply. <br />No comrade in eternity <br />Can hear the frantic cry. <br /> <br />No heart can share the terror <br />That haunts his monstrous dark. <br />The light that filters through the chinks <br />No other eye can mark. <br /> <br />When flesh is linked with eager flesh, <br />And words run warm and full, <br />I think that he is loneliest then, <br />The captive in the skull. <br /> <br />Caught in a mesh of living veins, <br />In cell of padded bone, <br />He loneliest is when he pretends <br />That he is not alone. <br /> <br />We’d free the incarcerate race of man <br />That such a doom endures <br />Could only you unlock my skull, <br />Or I creep into yours.<br /><br />Ogden Nash<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/listen/
