Oh how morose is this prose I penned in my solitude
How completely sullen the sudden waves of words I pieced together.
But how so? Why am I so endlessly sombre?
Is it just my innate self, or perhaps caused by another?

Truly, it's in the absence of constant and prolonged affliction
that I've begun to see the questions and flaws of my current situation
Oh how unfortunate it is to be awakened only at this later time
but time heals and I know, I know it shall heal this heart of mine.