I weep uncontrollably, every night now.
               20 million walk the streets of my city, not privy to
               my despair.
I cry as though something inside me is dying.
                But all know the truth.
Alone on a cold bathroom floor, how can one feel such loss before they've had to even say goodbye.
               That behind each front door exists a sick soul, coping with
               the tragedy of existence.