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I hate to see of things unseen,
but I cant help it if i have this sight.
I sometimes think that they are real,
though they're much different than us.
Touched them as i want to feel thier warmth,
As i felt the coldness of their skin
The hollow image as I see them,
they're emotionless face sa deep and so saddened.
As i hear their shrieking screams of pain
and agony, The shrills of thier voices..
Screeching the misty air..
They recall, They repeat thier last moments,
Thier last scenes in the play as the curtain closed..
All was lost!Bloody! yet so Dramatic!
as their innocence have disappeared with them.
I smell fresh flowers and burning candles
as i pass a dark path; I hear a voice
whose melody was soft and lovely yet so lonely...

emo emo mode emo