‘……I didn’t choose to walk these paths, not alone
It would have hurt less to have a companion to call my own,
I didn’t choose the lonely path of a loner on which I walk
I did my best; smile and waved when I could barely talk,
Perhaps the nothingness will consume me, tear me apart
And the emptiness shall drain me, rip out my heart,
Never been one to write poems of the soul
Perhaps that’s why my life never felt whole…….’
Madeline’s breath hitched when the tip of her pencil broke. For some reason it had startled her, she had been so immersed in the words she wrote that she had for a moment let her surrounding become blurry and fade away, she had for a moment forgotten that she was right here; on a bench out in a beautiful garden which she saw as nothing but a prison.
She stared down
