at times like these.
when my heart is strangled, when I feel like screaming.
the only option seems like a voiceless release into the night;
the night which merely stares back, without sympathy.
to sit motionless in pitch-black silence
allowing my tears to scar my face, creeping slowly
to tear me apart as no one watches in darkness.
because at times like these,
I really need a hand holding mine
telling me that we won't let go.
why does life have to work out this way?
