Melancholic musings will always be a part of anyone who has ever felt low, or has at one point in their life felt so miserable from doing the things that ought to have meant something to them. You start out with that smile painted on your face, and yet by the end of the day, the smile starts to fade and discolor from the moisture brought about by your own tears. As night slowly creeps in to snatch any trace of light, you try to comfort yourself by hiding yourself in your own personal sanctum, dreading the coming of events that will once again leave you drained, and lifeless.
But is there hope, really? How certain are we that redemption is at hand? They say good things come to those who wait. Well, perhaps. But we are talking here about an end that has yet to see light. In the meantime, we are left here standing as our companions start to falter and slowly fade to nothingness. You can hear their silent wails, but they are muffled by your own, for there is only so much that you yourself can take.
When the last of its leaves have flown away, leaving its branches bare and dead, what is there left for the tree to carry on?