The Unweeping Willow

Most cry and let the tears be their salvation. The waters of sorrow become the river that carries them back to happiness. Drifting peacfully amidst the chaos. The cleansing rain that washes away the pain, fails to grace my skin. Yet I still drown herein…  The flood of agony becomes a disease and infects all nearby. I can only hope it breaks them down, forcing them to die. The eternal sleep I wish I  had. The everlasting escape I do so crave, but the solution forever remains oh so sly. I am depraved. No sleep, no respite. Constant struggle with no hope of finding solace. 

No clouds in my skies, yet I still live through darkened days. Mirrors do not show what I am, but instead what I've become— The Unweeping Willow. Branches hanging low like my head, the weight of despair too much carry. Broken and beaten, alone and cold. No light, no warmth, but suffering is my blanket. Wrapped up tight in the madness. Friends, now foe. The difference, I do not know. 

Fragments of nothingness scattered about the non-existent planes. Seeds of antipathy blossom and grow into twisted thorned vines that tangle and ensnare all who wander by without care. Toxic pollen from their dark petals pollute the air. Tightness in the chest ensues, and steals the breath— the very essence of life itself. Suffocating the last of what's left to hold on to. The last ounce of support dies. Absolute nothing shows it's wicked hide, and conquers all good in tenacious stride. 
It's claws rip and tear at the bleeding heart. The beast spits on the remains and tramples over what ought to be spared after the heart falls… 

Heartfall, the ultimate sign of defeat. Proof that the world is grim. Proof that no rain will grace dry skin. Proof that hope is lost. Proof that the line between night and day is but a myth. And proof that only pain exists.

 The Unweeping Willow, with branches shriveled and dead… It's story is told but none hear, and none understand. The Unweeping Willow, with branches shriveled and dead, it's life is cold and empty. The Unweeping Willow, with branches shriveled and dead, withers away. 

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