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It's about the loss of a friendship...or the losing of one, I should say.

A storm is coming--brewing fiercely in the air.
The inevitable is drawing near, and there's nothing that can be done to stop it.
The wave will crash, and the seas will roar.
The night will be spent mourning the loss of something so beautiful, but no one really knows what brought this about--this horrible turn of events--the dreadful change in the wind.
How many walls will be broken?
It pains me to the depths of my soul to think upon these things.
It's an uphill battle, and we're losing ground quickly.
The heavy rain is washing away the footholds we've stood on for so long.
My coat is torn to shreds and the storm is eating away at my armor, but it does not laught at this--no, not at all.
The storm weeps with such ferocity, it breaks the hearts and souls of men.
I fear the worst is at hand, and there is no one here to hold me--no one to help me get through.
The clouds won't break.
The seas gain rage.
Still I fight on.
I hold no desire in my heart to lose.
This is far too important to me.
The storm bites and tears with its horrid, gnashing teeth.
I am afraid, and I am falling.