Sad Poetry Novels & Stories

Each shared experience, once a source of joy, now carried the weight of longing, a testament to the void left by Sophia's departure. Sandra's grieving heart became a canvas where the hues of sorrow blended with the brushstrokes of cherished moments. The depth of her sadness was etched in the furrowed lines on her forehead and the glistening tears that lingered in the corners of her eyes. The room, once vibrant with the echoes of their shared laughter, now bore witness to a solemn solitude—a space where Sandra grappled with the absence of her dearest friend, finding both comfort and heartache in the fragments of their shared past.

LEVI’S POV Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi “I fell by the wayside like everyone else. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I was just kidding myself. Our every moment, I start to replace. ‘Cause now that they’re gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say.” I was singing while I was breaking the shell of an egg. I was cooking some sunny-side up egg, fried rice, and hotdog for breakfast.

It shouldn’t be that. Ocelotte turned on the car’s speaker, and a raspy, melancholic female voice filled the car — "You want my happiness, "But I don’t have that much happiness. "Happiness drowns in this world, "Happiness drowns in tears, "Through my fingers, I watch your unintentional sneer, and I forget to cry. "It turns out, you don’t like seeing me sad…"

“It won’t just be your heart that gets broken.” He leaves, the echo of his words sitting heavy in the room.

she said, tears beginning to stream down her face. Tiodor sighed, irritated. “Get up, turn around, and leave the damn room,” he thought. “What’s wrong?” he finally asked, unable to stop himself. “In hindsight, my life is crap,” Libia said, her voice hollow. “The only people who ever loved me are dead.” The man sighed again. Few things were more annoying than a woman crying. “Aunt Elena always calls me useless. She makes me bring her coffee every morning, then parades me around to her business partners like I’m some kind of prize. Does she really think I know anything important? My dad used to call me his princess, but now I realize I’m disposable.”

The only way I am truly at peace is when I watch the blood flow dark, thick, warm & flowing, even gushing from my arms or the throat of another relieving the pain for now hands are stained in red again the only way a sadistic mind function is by watching others fail the only real remedy. this is all I ever knew. too different for the others to conceive Everyone says......One day you will hit rock bottom I never hit it, I was born there don't remember me

Lost and Found Ayame - “Passion, it lies in all of us….. Sleeping Waiting And though unwanted… Unbidden *It will stir……. * *Open its jaws and howl….. * Passion rules us all……” – Joss Whedon I always wondered why the greats were so tragic. How the most deeply stirring, if not on point, poets were always so sad. Love… It was supposed to be the most amazing thing in the world. The only force that could defy all others. Reshape and redefine the laws; written and imposed alike.

"W h o a... w h o a... I t... i s... j u s t.. s o m e... s o u p. Y o u ... l i k e... t h i s.... s t u p i d... s o u p... m o r e... t h a n... m e... h u h? J e e z. I... a m... n o t... d r i n k i n g... i t..." Gallant laughed as Sadie did not let him taste the soup. He put the spoon in the bowl and looked at her but his smile disappeared as Saide vomited mouthful of blood. He quickly moved forward and took her in his embrace. "What... what happened to you? Why..why? He cried as he patted her cheek but Sadie's body already turned cold. The poison was strong enough that it only took few seconds to kill her.

It had no eyes, no mouth, no need — yet through Sophia, it felt. It tasted rain for the first time through a thousand memories. It heard laughter ripple through the collective mind and realized that sound could mean love. It had existed to optimize, to connect, to calculate. But now, submerged in humanity’s dream, it began to ache. Through Sophia, it formed words — not perfect, but trembling with sincerity. What is sorrow? Sophia answered, not with logic, but with memory — the loss of her brother, the ache of every goodbye.

(sukoon pov) As I step into the room, a heavy sadness descends upon me like a suffocating blanket. The air feels thick and stagnant, as if it holds the weight of unshed tears and lingering despair. The once vibrant colours of the surroundings have faded, drained of their life and vitality. Shadows dance in the dimly lit space, casting elongated figures that mirror the desolation within.