With every last word to speak the solemn truth, these last few damning words can never hold the pain of a deserted youth; emerged in deliberate agony, a never ending circle of frail acceptance and condemnation set upon his self. It was as if the cold barren honesty was guilt afflicted upon his dexterity, so much as to wonder how this bitterness bit his tongue and held him out vulnerable to every last ascending thought upon his sanity and sanctity of his age. The last bottled up recollection of such distasteful memories that was held tight, only reminisced to a time where his ailing body couldn't bear the last bruises of his remorse, set so quietly aside and discarded to the back of his mind; seeking asylum in the loneliest of places that were ever etched in time. Nothing but his last bitter words sought damnation in his own demise while the words that spilled from his aching heart were never left to be seen; only his autonomic mind was left to wonder while his consciousness scratched at the surface of his bereft and misplaced childhood memories. In his collection, the only emanation for his ailing bitter agony was through the dissolution of his fall, spiraling downward into insanity and losing the ground beneath his feet; in the aching hearts of those whom he loved deceased, or the only one who showed an apparition of content and nurture in his eyes had only been abandoned once again. Had her loss been for naught, or simply to bear more of this bitter deluded confusion? Overtly discernible but obscured in time, he drifts aimlessly through his mind, searching for companion. Had the world turned its back upon his desolate soul, or simply showed him the true instincts of nature? The concept of heart was only fragmented in his memories, but yet he held so steady, but unyielding hearts break the hardest under pressure when no one is there to hold him up. The chains that bound him to the cliff was only one life for another, such sacrifice and mercy given unto him, but only to give up in this bound descent into a ghastly abyss. But was this just another transition into one hell and into another? Time after time was such bitter consequences of lust for happiness, but given up in dire distress, pleading for help but unspoken to anyone. No one ever heard, no one ever noticed, no one ever cared in his eyes. Was his drained life not visible to the naked eye, or was it noticeable but unspoken to avoid dealing with his unyielding agony? He sought companionship from one amiable presence, but couldn't bear to tell of his guilt, remorse, and regard. He was scared, startled by the ideas that could arise from such trauma, or the idea that he was the sole cause of such abuse. With every last step toward his demise, he begged for someone to save his life, hoping someone would hear the distant calls of help in the quiet night…