The haunting of She \m/

It haunts all of his senses, each time, asleep or awake, there is no escape. To where he move, is to where stood, gazing at vivid images replaying in front of his eyes again and again. She is not something to be called to shrug off his mind, the importance of her existence, sets a meaningful presence to all of himself. It touches his life with all his six senses to be unite in his one core, deep down in his heart, creates a mark and so does a scar. All has turned into his haunting memoir, illusions and delusions, his happiness into dreams, his misery into reality. Sleep no more, awake is futile, the middle is in battle, in void he withdraws. Nowhere to turn to, no refuge to be taken, for his true life is gone, nothing can be done, for all he got is lost within the one. \m/