Despair

Falling,
Not wondrous, fantasy-filled Wonderland type
But dark, hatred and grimy

Darkness,
Not the sort that precedes light
But an endless stretch of pitch black night

Wailing
Not of a mother giving birth or child
But of a soul pained and angry

Pain
Not the kind that medicine can solve
But constant, sad, sublime

Silence
Not awe, calm or meditation
But still, dullness, death.

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