A storm was growing inside him desperate to be unleashed. His heart was cold as a thousand winters and as he grew impatient with the ignorance of the world he realized that he will never know the bliss of failure.
He waited for death like a torn lover. He longed to hold her in his arms and sway her among the darkness of his poetry. For eight years he waited for her but alas his luck has worked to his disadvantaged and he lived only to feel his heart break at the sight of his empty days.
He did not know the warmth of the stars nor the smell of spring. But autumn made him happy, the cold, abandoned nights by the fire reminded him of the embers of his youth. His eyes had great depth. He has seen beautiful things but they did not matter to him anymore. He was alive but he did not exist.
His mind was a riddle. He was a nonchalant boy with all the answers was he ever known. But he was hallow inside. Now a man filled with inglorious rage, loneliness was afraid of him and fear shriveled at his defiance and they left him to accompany nothing but his lucid smile.
His smile was a stranger to him, too anonymous. Loneliness and fear were his friends but they deserted him. He grew colder because his heart could neither feel pain but it was tolerable, he accepted his fate till his eyes would once again remember how patient love had always been to him.