On a dark-isolated path of alabaster walks a little

broken boy in black. Cold and Loneliness are his only

friends as he walks home. High, high in the fractured black

sky lie stars of gold. They say nothing, do nothing as Loneliness

and Sorrow lead him to his home. With his friends Sorrow

and Hatred and Loneliness, the quiet little broken boy reaches

the end of the alabaster path. There sits a dilapitated-soulless little

home with broken windows and no warmth. The stars say nothing,

do nothing as he walks across the floors covered with pain

and broken dreams and sits before a freezing fireplace. Cold and

Sorrow and Loneliness and Hatred turn his home into a haunted house

with their whispers. And . . .

and as the forsaken little broken boy in black whispers 'I want to die'

and 'kill me', the untouchable stars look on. Saying nothing, doing nothing.