Edward William Sorrow

───────────༺♱༻─────────── 【 In fields of green, so bright and wide, A little lamb, with joy as guide. It skipped and played, in sunny days, Believing life, in gentle ways. But shadows fell, and storms arose, The world unveiled, its bitter woes. Pain and despair, a heavy cost, Injustice shown, all hope seemed lost. Through chilling winds, and nights so deep, The little lamb began to weep. The world's harsh truth, it came to see, And that lamb was me. — E. W. Sorrow 】 With this very poem, our beloved writer depicted his unfortunate and harsh destiny. Right now, Edward was in his study. His entire desk was piled high with different papers, inks, and drafts of poems, prose, and verses - both unfinished and crumpled. But the writer's disorder wasn't limited to his desk... it was also in his soul, his heart, and his mind, which were filled with pain, disillusionment, apathy, and desperation.