My hope is sequestered in a black void; it is hopelessly adrift in a tumultuous mass of negativity that devours any veins of light that dare to reveal themselves.

I would follow it into the blackness if the thick, poisonous tendrils of gloom didn't bar my way. It seems that any heartfelt attempts at breaking down the blockage results in terrible growth of the tendrils, and so I'm emptily bound; my emotion has seeped into nonexistence.