A.N.: It was in my sketchbook... I must've been feeling like crap when I wrote this...

In a darkened corner,

the branches are more nareled,

more shadows come to play.

I can't find the light,

tears are lost in the shadows.

No sound has been made,

silent on the surface,

but my heart is screaming in pain.

I can't smile,

my heart's turning black.

Where is my release?