Lonely Factor

Crying he sits there huddled in a heap of tears; only thing reminding him of pacing time and future are the red lines dictating a reference for a time. Clenching his legs harder into his body until it feels like a breakable pressure he hides his face again and cries; yet its not for lost...but for a lost ideal. While he fights the tear he suffers in darkness, while he tells a secret too a one he knows not; yet it strangely lifts his spirit...just the knowledge of shared pain, quirks a smile on his face. What ailment they share is only know to those who embrace it in the dark of night...seeing it as the only feeling the quenchable touch of a cold hand. If it were a name Its name is not known in less gone after and relished upon finding...