Though the cold, harsh beginning of a winters night,

Ill feelings have surfaced; come to light.

These feelings, however, bear a great albatross

An immense pressure: feelings of loss.

Like the ever-evident loss of time-

A feeling most draining, short of sublime,

Promotes an uncanny urgency, a great haste

To regain what’s lost, to close the space.

Or perhaps a loss in a friend or foe-

It feels there’s not much difference although.

Their spiteful words, disguised as blessings,

Coated in sugar, an attraction depressing.

Or maybe the loss of direction- astray -

From dreams and aspirations, obligations away.

A lack of motive, due to countless disappointments,

A dreary life; devoid of enjoyment.

A myriad of losses- amounting in just one:

A loss of myself, an absence forever gone.