he was the type who never speak unless spoken to
he just sat there by the window
the moon's pulsating beam illuminated his curled up body
the cool evening breeze caressed his skin
everything else was pitch black
nothing can be heard except for his soft, muffled sobs resonating across the walls.
memories were relived
wounds were reopened
so much pain
regret and bereavement
he grew desperate
desperate to free himself from the clutches of fear
but he had lost his strength
he was fragile and vulnerable
so he just sat there
in the dark
"i dont know if this is worth it."
and waited till the pain fades away.
because, really, there's nothing he can do
and maybe he will be never worth it anyway