A young girl stared out her window one night.

The eloquence of sadness; the ability to tear hearts apart,
The fluent capability of emotions soaring through her heart.

The untimely sensation that scars and ruins,
That cloud of despondency that lacks delight,
It was looming over her town, refraining to excite.

Sadness, she thought, has a power of its own,
The potential to wound and the means to attack,
With trauma that lingers, all covered in black.

Sadness: the feeling of sorrow, the damage never ceases to stay,
The melancholy wrapped around each and every day.

And the obscure windowpane revealed the following sight.