It slithers in like a snake; a cold, heartless demon. It tears and tears at her until there is nothing left; just a hollow hole of darkness. What is this demon you ask; sorrow, the worst beast of them all. It lashes out with its arms choking and smothering her in its unforgiving embrace. She desperately tries to fight this unforgiving beast, but to know avail. It shatteres her confidence, tearing and ripping; it breaks her heart, breaking and cracking; it morphs her soul, twisting and changing. It leaves gashes in her skin, tear stains on her cheeks, lifelessness in her eyes, and evil in her soul. Yet still unsatisfied with its hunger the beast rips through her breaking and shattering every bit of her, everything she ever knew or loved is gone. It shallows and consumes her, it controls her mind, like a kid controls a game control her. Her sorrow is a bottomless, oblivious pit of endless torture. For when this monster entered her she was a strong woman,
yet now she is noting more than a brittle, broken child.