Sorrow’s Camaraderie

With sweet sorrow, I stroll,
Between these mystifying footpaths,
Her countenance is gentle as she leads,
Me through a hall of emotive congruences,
We progress through twists and through turns,
Not with my hand in her hand,
Or, like friendly friends,
More forward, she escorts me,
Like friend and foe,
Into the ethereal unknown,
Oh, how I hate my long-suffering sorrow,
But such a gentle foe she is,
If I should wake up before tomorrow,
I pray she concedes me the rise of the morn,
At last, she can grant me a few rays,
When more time I spent in darkness’ gaze,
Sorrow, not too far behind,
Much like a brusque breeze,
She finds a way to burrow,
To unravel my frames moderate disease,
Trading instead an infliction,
Until I'm undone and positively futile,
Her skillful work is overall exhaustive,
And more potent than when she’d first instigated,
Her easy watch as I wallowed,
Instead of racing ahead and outrun,
In her footsteps do I shadow,
My distress completely undone,
As I stay astride this loved one,
The only one who is want to care,
The one who understands my hollow core,
Until my reserve strengthens again,
To whence I can lead on,
I’ll follow her into the dark,
Oh, sweet friend,
My gentle foe,
My one true love in my sweet sorrow.