There's nothing as great as a being
Whose heart only sorrow is leaving.
Though rarely does pleasure he find,
To the beauty of misery, his eyes are not blind.
And although time he has plenty to ponder,
The truth is still dark due to sonder.
A dummy exists for the pleasures of rain,
But bother he finds facing troubles of pain.
So the proof of a man who is fit to exist,
In the valleys of glee will surely be missed.
And the mountains whose peaks with blood are displayed,
The truth you will find of a man who is frayed.
And only in thoughts of the ones that were loved
Or in dreams of those who were not,
The despair you will find that makes people be hugged
But also the cause of why issues are shrugged.
So beware of the power of sorrow,
As your mind can become undeniably hollow.