The quiet, shy, timid, and lonely being they call a “human” oozes with guilt and hurt.
As the tears continue to run, the hurt becomes more apparent, and the fear is overlapped by heartache. The mask is no longer wearable as the pain and torment have bled through it. The lonely perceptions of what a “life” truly is are merely becoming more and more unclear. Reality is the furthest from the unstable, sporadic mind, as the guilt arises, spills over, and conquers successfully. The fabric of acceptance now burnt, and even the loneliness is left alone and uncovered. There is no shelter, no coverage, as the sky seems too far out of reach as it suddenly becomes unclear, and fog-like; a gray hue now. The silhouette of a hand makes its final impression on the once beautiful, warm, peaceful essence of above—the reach is weak. No strength to continue, as the present transforms into black; an immortal darkness. The lack of color now much more appealing, as the fear slowly fades and the hurt immediately diminishes, taking every negative entity along. Depression now finally deceased, and the pain and agony of the useless “life” is merely erased. The feelings of torment and anger are now calmed like a blue-green ocean swaying freely, splashing its happiness over the terrain of sorrow, serenading darkness. The downward spiral never looked or felt better, as the end is reached—leaving nothing but silence.