As day turns into night,

All happiness vanishes out of sight.

Unable to feel anything but alone,

I begin to feel as cold as stone.

Hate and despair is all that is known.

No emotion is what is shown.

Love could never warm this heart.

I can’t help but fall apart.

Pain flows through this pen.

I feel like an old book that hungers to be open.

Why must everything that is cherished go away?

Why do I feel as though I’m about to fray?

This paper obscures my sight,

And all I can do is write.