And we all go alone

And we all go in silence and alone, for taking part in someone else melancholy is too hard for our small hearts. A cry and a chant rise for us, but we carry on without giving ear to, for sharing someone else loss is something we refuse to be able to. And in the evening, in our locked homes, we switch the sentiments off to fend off the void all around us, and we switch the music on to fill up the silence wrapping us. A silence we keep in our heart, a heart rejoicing of vain, empty and useless achievements. The straw will be consumed when the fire will come: where are the Summer's evenings scented of affection, seasoned with wine and hugs? They are all but forgotten, dropped during the walk and forsaken.
And alone we go, obstinate in our deceitful delusion, with steps any more swift at a silvery music's sound but faltering.