Nothing is more sad than random gibberish.

Figuratively.

A bird without wings

A fish without gills

A garden without flowers

An addict without pills.

The sky turns black

The clouds turn grey

The stars burn out

And so do I.

Waves of regret crash

against a sandy shore

the grains now soaked

become filled with guilt.

Another day passes by

another fish washed up

on a sinking shore

amassed by a sea of remorse.

Years start to fade away

The sea turned to sand

The sand turns to dust

and echoes of a lost love.

The only noise a cry

Not one of fear or joy

But of solitude

and self-loathing.