Oh how sorrow takes its toll,
Losing all control,
We'll be forever unkind,
We're losing our fragile minds.
  
Making up a tragic tale,
Of how we managed to fail,
To smile in the holy light,
And hid our faces in the eternal night.

Break the fall with a thought of survival,
But hit the ground with no hope of revival,
Respiration is a distant memory,
As life on Earth is only temporary.

Sorrow has always captured my attention,
Tradegy framed in a single face,
A tear, all memories refracted from a single point.
Depression is always elegance in action,
Movement of one stage of a persons true grey,
To the next lightest color.
Color, not shade.
For we can all learn to interpret the grey.
But when that persons face brightens?
Their light is a stark display,
Deep indigo dances with flaming scarlet,
True cobalt blue swims alongside sky blue, yellow dawns a new era of verdant green.
All because of one small tear-shaped prism of refraction.
All shades of joy, frenzies of different shades dancing in one picture.
Shades, because all we knew was grey.
But joy... subsides. We all know this true, fortunately.
Without this, we would never see the beauty of grey.
That which is true rock bottom, Untainted by the scarlet of anger, the yellow of joy.
No, the pure single eloquence of sorrow.

Interest is... for lack of better words, interesting.
People feel validated through interest.
Interest means your important, right?
Or is there something more?
New things are so interesting, they have never been done before.
Never seen, it means there is so much more.
Unless its the same gimmick, just done a new way.
I have interests.
I am interested in what makes me happy. Not what is new.
Because that which  is new,
why it could end up hurting me.