Sorrowful Poetry Novels & Stories

But she was gone, and the weight of her absence gnawed at him like a living thing. Rowan pressed the moonstone closer, feeling the faint warmth seep into him, and let the tears he had been holding back spill freely. He whispered every apology, every regret, every word he had never dared to say when she was alive. The desert, vast and indifferent, absorbed them all, letting the wind carry the sorrow across dunes and into the distant horizon.

None apart from this. The surging is this. The welling is this. The flashing is this. No separation. The emotion subsides. Joy fades. Sorrow eases. Anger cools. All within this. None apart from this. The fading is this. The easing is this. The cooling is this. No separation. Every rise is this. Every fall is this. Every peak is this. Every valley is this. Every middle is this. No separation. The light that is. The love that is.

Bernice cried, "Mom and Dad are gone." "It's impossible!" Dylan exploded in anger. He denied it as he rushed from room to room, shouting, "You're all just pretending! When I left, Mom and Dad were perfectly fine. How could they suddenly be gone?" Bernice shook her head. "Why don't you believe me? Mom and Dad are truly gone. They were poisoned to death. The doctor said that they kept calling our names before they passed. We're not worthy of being their children." Andrew and Sally were the best parents in the world and had devoted everything to Dylan and Bernice.

He felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness and sorrow, knowing he was unable to ease the pain of those around him. As April’s gentle breathing filled the room, Aiden’s tears continued to flow. The weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders, and the deep sadness of the day’s revelations was a burden he struggled to bear alone. Despite the comfort of April’s presence, the night was a reminder of the losses and heartaches that shaped his life.

he voiced out calmly, squeezing me tightly. Tears streamed down my face like a relentless rain, each drops a tangible manifestation of the sorrow that gripped my heart. I wept with a depth of emotion that shook my very being, My eyes, red and puffy from the deluge of tears, felt like they were burning with a fire that couldn't be quenched. My nose was stuffy, and my throat constricted as if the grief itself was choking me. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair, with no lifeline to cling to. The weight of my sorrow was crushing me, pressing down on me like a physical force that I couldn't escape.

The news pierces through her like a dagger, opening floodgates of overwhelming emotions she struggles to contain. Grief and helplessness wash over her in relentless waves, as she grapples with the weight of her situation. Her human fragility is stark against the backdrop of a supernatural realm she never imagined she would be part of. The sense of sadness claws at her heart, intertwining with a profound sense of loss resonating deep within her very core.

Her voice trailed off, thick with anguish. Loleng listened intently, her heart shattering with each word her daughter managed to say. Victoria might not have been crying, but the absence of tears made her pain even more haunting. It wasn’t the kind of grief that could be washed away with sobs. No, this was deeper, more profound. Every sigh Victoria released seemed to drag out the heaviness inside her, every breath a struggle under the weight of a sorrow that had settled too deeply into her soul.

And suddenly I feel it Not hunger. Not rage. Sorrow Infinite sorrow. The Hollow trembles violently. And for the first time in eternity The Devourer begins to cry too

she asked. "Suppose a Sorrowful Man came to my palace one night and killed you as you slept," said Xaro. The Sorrowful Men were an ancient sacred guild of assassins, so named because they always whispered, "I am so sorry," to their victims before they killed them. The Qartheen were nothing if not polite. "It is wisely said that it is easier to milk the Stone Cow of Faros than to wring gold from the Pureborn."