Some poem i found a long time ago, not sure who wrote it.
The heart throbs for the warmth of a soul,
Entrapped by its own fears it etches the countless coffins that it’s taken in time,
Horrified by the thought of solitude,
Wishing and dreaming of its companion,
In pain it tires and drowns itself in cold tears,
It hides its essence; it masks its truth, a façade of countless lies to keep it unearthed,
It cries alone, in the darkness of a void,
In an endless sea of anguish and fear,
Alone it is, no one to seek, no one to love,
Silence is all that remains of its presence,
The quiet strumming of its life clock ticking away,
Sometime, someday you’ll feel loved, perhaps in the void, or maybe in hell.