The summer sun warms your battle-worn bones under the bluest skies but your soul remains dark, orphan, untouched; missed by the healing rays of life. Birds chant, but cannot enchant. Friends hug you so sincere that your body is lifted but your morbid soul becomes an anchor in a dried sea bed. The heavy dark patch within expands like a blotch of ink spilt on paper, as though it is fed by what others call bliss. The winter gushes into the depths of your soul, skipping fall. The only way the darkness to dim out is through a symphony strong enough to rattle your soul and sprinkle you onto the new day piece by piece although you would settle for a couple of notes. Melodies slither into your soul and your body starts moving like an unlively marionette showing the tiniest signs of rebirth of a life trapped in an ugly thick shell. You budge to the rhythm in slow motion, hoping to jump start your once lively spirit but….. then the music ends.