He wandered into the darkest of paths, he left his life of morality, deserted all hopes of a positive respected life. He tottered, he at times crawled through this path of recklessness and never looked back, neither at the people he left nor at the person he was before, he numbed himself to cope with the pain. He numbed himself 24/7, 365 days of the year because sobriety didn’t suit him and rational was irrational to his aching destroyed soul. He continued aimlessly, never wondering how tomorrow will be but rather how to live through tonight. Willow trees weep over his downfall, and dying roses guide him into the graveyard of the unliving living, the graveyard where the dead internally but the physically alive go, the ones that lost the most humane thing given to them, hope. He came near the graveyard, the air polluted with the decaying of the souls he found his new home just as he was losing his old self; but before he enters this point of no return he looks back one last time. He looks back to a hand, a warm one, fearfully he grabs hold, this is the hand and warmth he has longed to feel, it was himself.