There's that sacred enclosure within a heart, guarded and barred with thorny vines and lovesick heartaches. As the days pass by, lonely and forgotten, the vines and heartaches grow relentlessly. A heart wrenching pain beats like a hollow drum. The sacred enclosure is now empty, searching, screaming, for relief. It wishes and longs for something to hold in it, to love, to feel for.

But that's very rare for it to find that special someone willing to share his or her life with you. The heart is now empty. It's hollow; because within that sacred enclosure, past the barbed thorns and lovesickness, there is no reason to love. It's forgotten, drifting - fading - like the clouds in the sky. The clouds drop their sacred waters down upon the unholy grounds of Earth, those tears soon to be forgotten by those it falls upon. There are those who push through - to see an end with joy and happiness. But they are nothing but lovesick fools. They fill that empy enclosure in their hearts with false bound love and affection, all soon whisked away like the leaves of an autumn breeze. Are they happy? They say they are, but is that just them trying to convince themselves of things they know, deep down, aren't true?

Day by day, the jagged vines start squeezing that hollow enclosure. Those lonely nights seem to flow incessantly into the human mind. They clasp and crush that sacred enclosure, devouring each part of it. Soon, it starts to crack and falter, weathering into nothing but dust and rubble. And the vines squeeze tighter still, reducing the pile of rubble into dust. Soon, after years pass by with no love to relieve it, the vines destroy the dust. There is nothing left now but the lovesick heartaches and the vines of hopelessness.