Doth my senses deceive my withered mind, aligning in my sight a veil of beauty not unlike that of a gods gift of kindness to another before revealing a jagged, frozen dagger; nay a facade of shining darkness, the chilling reluctance of others aplenty.
Thou felt naught else than bitter winters making numb the mind, thus freezing the soul trapping the aching pain within.
How maddening a mans woes that only he may understand, for even in death he finds no true release from the screams he desperately reveals to others that only he may hear, instead only the faint feeling of hope upon thy decaying soul; hope of another to aid in the removal of his harrowing pain.
How cruel indeed for thyself to be naught more than sadness and rage that no other may calm, without remorse for the broken souls they aid.