It was my last desperate plea, the last attempt I’d probably ever make.
There is no solace, no escaping this sorrow. It doesn’t come and go, it has a home in a hollow smack in the middle of my chest.
It will never leave.
My last desperate attempt was the most idiotic. I placed it all in a person,
I placed it all in a box constructed of smoke and watched it vanish into oblivion.
All that remained was me and my sorrow. Me and my sorrow. My sorrow. Sorrow. And I…am the sorrow.