Deafened Joy

Extricating fine threads of languished sorrow from senses of the living. Folding in upon hearts of sorrowful harvesting, always uncontrollable from the start, not envied, but not able to part from it. Sneaking along sinister rails of unrecognizable failure, secure in the false knowledge of someone else's wisdom. Bluest colors of an inner heaven, separated from the stillness of the soul, played gently, like a violin, afraid to really let go and begin again in another sphere of life. Rallying behind intense sorrow, trying desperately to make things right, failing repeatedly, unable to reach ends of tell-tale wrenching sorrow. Spatial silver hovering, reflecting watches of deepest, darkest nights, never attaining realms of others glory or joy. Forever silent, laid upon the mantle of deadened joy, unable to seek the freedom so seldomly enjoyed by many. Unfeeling, saturation of daily harmonious living does not exist, cannot exist anymore this time in a woeful life.