©Seth F. Weaver,Sr. 10/19/11. Trapped in his own prison an unloved fellow waits for death to come and soothe away his guilt. Guilt of never trusting another, guilt of never loving someone, guilt, guilt, and more guilt. Like a disease festering in his black soul. He watches the world happily go by and wonders why…they are happy. Can’t they see the things he’s always guarded against. They must all be idiots but at least they are happy idiots. His main problem was he was afraid of life and living. This is a mixed media work using collage and Scribbletool.