I ache. It consumes, like a sickness in my bones, I'll never be rid of the sorrow that chokes me, works its way up my throat, spews forth from lips in words of sorrow and tears of despair. Why, oh why, is this so hard? Why do I feel so lost, so inadequate, so rejected? Am I wrong to feel so? Am I wrong to want all my dreams and wishes combined, am I wrong to have thought this could really be everything I had hoped for and more?
Reality is needles, thorns and spines tearing at my flesh, marring my dreams with black sand and coal. It's coarse, grating my bones into dirt, between fingers it crumbles and fades, like all things. Have you ripped w