I hate nights spent in solitude br with nothing but the sound br of my breath: br s l o w l y inhale, br let it out even s l o w e r. br br It seems the night will never end, br but it does, br and the sun barely shows br its large, round, golden face. br I rarely enjoy the morning though, br as I know it means the start br of one more l o n g, boring day, br and yet another l o n g, br lonesome br night in silence. br br I have a dream- br the same each night: br about NOT having to cry br myself to sleep at night; br but every morning I wake up, br and realize it was just a fantasy. br br I do not know how to break br this chain of continuous boredom br and complete br solitude, br and I have no one to tell but br myself.