Undoubtedly life is a solitary confinement,
Unending.
We live together, 
But we are by ourselves, always.
Everyone is an island,
An island of their own.
Our feelings are
Incommunicable.
With all the communication tools we have
We fail to communicate anything to anybody.
It is a fatal error,
A manufacturing defect.
We utter words,
But fail to pass on the real essence.
We have no common grounds,
Where we could feel together.
We are strong rooms of our own fallacies,
Destined to suffer in solitude.
We are self shelves of our own
Lost hell and lost heaven.