Solitary friend

Slowly I walk into the abyss
Nothing knowing what I am doing
I am not free though
It is a sad trapped path

Others pass by not knowing
But behind the sheet of straight faces
Lies tears, anger, mourning
And a Hint of addiction

It is not the mourning of a person
It is the mourning of something beautiful
No one will be able to tell
How the beautiful thing was left to die

There are never direct reasons
There will never be a definition
Only questions of why
And how

Should there still be tears?
Its getting so old
Yet the pain remains
An abyss of pure darkness

Live with?
Yes...
Like?...
No...

It is a forceful thing
All solutions have been tries
It is a dark hole
That never seems to end.