Sitting with sorrow, staring into its eyes,
holding hands. Warmth emanating from its being,
consoling you that the things could have been worse.
It cradles you to sleep with Frank Sinatra
but gives you dreams drenched in hopelessness.
It wakes you up every morning,
with a hope that you'll set it free,
but you hold it back,
pull it back to yourself.
It's a part of you now.
Sorrow never entrapped you...
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