vain

A mighty pain to love it is,
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.

There was a little boy, by the name of Henry, who loved a little girl, by the name of Mary. They knew each other very little, but still Henry loved the little girl not because she was beautiful and playful, but because she made him feel like no other girl made him feel. He felt he was a better person with her, he felt he could be the man he was supposed to be, not just the little boy he is. With her, he would not have to worry about the problems, because he knew it would turn alright in the end as long as Mary would stay by his side. Nothing would matter. But of course, life isn't fair. Life is cruel. Mary never cared about Henry. Henry, in midst of all the deception and dissapointment became an alcoholic and jumped from the bridge he had carved his and Mary's name on. It was on Mary's birthday, that the little boy's body was found. The figure of the body wasn't any longer that of a boy and yes from an old man. He carried a flower and a little diary with him. The diary was soaked and due to the cheap ink Henry had used, it was unreadable. But still, on the cover, incripted the words were: I know I'll always love you, for all my life I know I will love you.