It is the cracks between the concrete.
The ones you fail to see.
The ones that you step over.
And the line where all of them meet.

They meet to form a boundary.
A wall you cannot cross.
And when they come together,
You are at a loss.

You lose all that you hold.
All the work you have contained.
And when the work is gone,
Nothing but sorrow remains.

The sorrow is but a shadow.
It haunts you day by day.
It will wait for an opening,
A passage, a way.

And when it finds a way,
It will trip you from behind.
And all you hold close will be lost.
It will be something you weren't meant to find.

The sorrow is like the cracks.
The ones you fail to see.
The cracks that you step over,
And the line where all of them meet.