Sorrowful Poetry Novels & Stories

Every sob was laced with frustration, grief, and a yearning that had been dormant, igniting a fierce longing for a future she had long since given up on. And before she could stop herself, the sobs tore through her, raw and uncontainable. She was overwhelmed, caught in the maelstrom of her feelings—anger at the years they had wasted, sorrow for the pain they had endured separately, and an aching hope for what might still be possible. Each sob felt like a cathartic release, as if she were shedding layers of hurt that had been intertwined with her heart. In that moment, she was reminded that love, while beautiful, could also be deeply painful. And as she sat there, tears streaming down her che

Like delicate raindrops clinging to the precipice, her tears teeter on the edge, threatening to spill over and carve a path down her cheeks. Within those sorrowful eyes, one can witness the struggle of a wounded soul. They are the windows to a heart burdened by the weight of grief, loss, or loneliness. The irises, once bright and vibrant, now seem dim, as if a shadow has enveloped their natural radiance. The sparkle that once danced within them has been replaced by a haunting emptiness.

The air was heavy with the scent of despair, mingling with the acrid stench of liquor and broken dreams. Behind the bar counter, I stood like a specter, a harbinger of sorrow serving liquid poison to lost souls. The dim glow of crimson-hued lights accentuated the hollows beneath my eyes, reflecting the abyss that consumed me. The clinking of glasses echoed like a morbid chorus, each sound a discordant note in the symphony of despair.

“She’s rewriting the tone.” Cathros snarled. “Then we’ll give her something to scream about.” He turned to Kael. “Unleash the Second Voice.” ------ The Sorrowing Choir did not stop. Its dirge curled through the Hollow like smoke slipping under doorways and through cracks in stone. A melody ancient and discordant, it sunk into every corner of the realm, rooting despair where hope once tried to bloom. No scream could pierce it. No prayer could silence it. Even the trees bent inward, as if trying to shut their own ears.

She was engulfed in profound sorrow. "Please open up," I pleaded, my voice filled with desperate longing. Yet, the door remained resolute, a barrier between us. "Please, Lora," I implored, my composure wavering. Silence enveloped us, save for the faint sound of her stifled sobs. The mere sight of her anguish shattered my heart into countless pieces, an unbearable ache that gripped my very being.

she asks in a low, haunting voice that fucking guts me. Disappointment is a heavy burden, a sinking feeling that lodges itself deep within the heart. It's the bitter taste of hope turned sour, a shattered dream that leaves a trail of tears in its wake. It strikes like a sudden storm on a sunny day, catching you off guard and leaving you drenched in sorrow.

Tears, like a relentless waterfall, cascaded down my cheeks, each droplet a poignant testament to the depth of the pain that consumed me from within. The weight of my despair, like an unyielding burden, pressed down upon me with an almost suffocating force. It was as if an invisible hand was squeezing my chest, constricting my breath and making it difficult to find respite from the overwhelming emotions that threatened to drown me. The heaviness of my sorrow seemed to permeate every fiber of my being, saturating my thoughts, my movements, and my very existence.

I mentally scolded. “Sweetheart,” He stood in front of the bed with a mournful expression and slowly expressed, “Sianna lost her son.” “What?” I was stunned. Sianna must be laden with grief. Though, I've discovered that grief is basically love. It's all the love you wanted to share, but are unable to, offer. The profound sorrow that lambasted your heart when you will never see, touch or speak to that precious someone again. I prayed that her heart would find comfort in this time of sorrow.

The people I trust, I cared about---they gave up on me. "No, you are wrong!" Kai, that kid suddenly exclaimed. "Sorrow, that's not what the author meant. I don't know why you looked that way, but you missed the point. Sorrow by Jeremy Gloss is about a man scarred by the world, the people he loved left him, those people he cared the most turned their back on him. The world filled his empty heart with bitterness; I don't know why but it was meant to be that way. That man, never once thought of bringing them back in his life. He lived his life with pure resentment, he didn't let another entity to enter his life ever since. Autumn, winter, spring, and summer, countless seasons passed by until, o

Dorian asked quietly. "I feel everything," I said. "I do not know how to describe it any better than that." "Try," he said gently. "It may matter later, what you felt first, before it had the chance to decide what it wanted to show you." I considered that as we walked. "Sorrow," I said finally. "Not anger, not hunger. Just sorrow, old enough that it has forgotten it is even sorrow anymore. It only remembers that something is missing." Dorian was quiet for several steps. "That is not what I expected you to say."