Shape of Sadness

Sadness sits in the corner, quiet, a shadow that fills the room without a sound. It is the weight of unspoken words, the echo of laughter that never quite returns. It drips slowly, like rain against windows that never open, blurring the world outside. Some days, it is soft, a hand resting lightly on your chest. Other days, it is a stone sinking deeper, pulling you into the earth. But always, it lingers, a constant hum beneath the surface, waiting to rise like the tide.