If the darkness were a candle, it would burn forever, because not even the gleeful sun, nor the kind moon for that matter would come out to play with him. And so there he sat, alone, held captive in his icy, dark prison where no light shined. He could only imagine what the warmth of the sun felt like on his pale skin that had never been touched by it before. Occasionally a gust of cruel wind would come along and be a tease. It'd flirt with him for a bit, dancing with his hair to its own rhythm and softly kiss his face. But it's kindness was nothing more than a disguise to hide the malicious truth of its nature, and just like everything else, it left without bidding goodbye. And though he was aware of it's terrible intentions to mock him, he'd still find himself desperately calling out, into the vast emptiness,
"Oh no! Wind! Where have you gone? Please, spare a moment and stay a little longer. Please. I'm so lonely!"
And yet again, he found himself sitting alone in everlasting blackness. But that's just what he was, Loneliness, and nobody wanted to play with Loneliness. And though his body shook and quivered in sorrow, not even tears would give him the pleasure of their company.