Your murderer stands before you,
hears your cries but it ignores you.
Yet a smile it bears; nothing more,
But of the pain you're not so sure.
Where do you writhe, where do you bleed,
losing everything you need.
Tbe mirth of the tune you hear once more,
Abled, you cry out, just like you had before
To hear:
The dominant yell of those who'd failed,
yet tried,
The song of the silent from those who died,
The final sob of those who've cried.
The ruthless laugh of those who kill,
The mirthful thoughts of those who will,
The panicked glances of those who nill.
Remembering the times you'd rather die,
All the pain, you'd though, was like
a poke in the eye.
Right now, more than anything,
you'd like to live,
to hope to dream, to sell, to give,
to see once more those you love,
to see once more the stars above.
To see the light from those who glow,
to see is to believe, to believe is to know.
Time stops slowly for those that are slow,
the weaakened of knees, the voice like a crow.
Within the pain, within the heart,
where to come from, where to start?
To say a word, and then forget,
those cherished times to speak, and then yet,
Not just to speak, to hear as well,
The voices of friends that you heard tell
of times of wondering why, wondering how
You'd rather hear them then what you were hearing
now:
You hear the voices of those who earned,
listening to the silence of those who yearned,
To hear the hush of those who learned.
Death has one eye, one memory, one wish,
Can send hopes to flames as quick as a Pheonix,
Bursts into tears like the sweat of a soul,
The rising and climbing of the sorrowed toll,
Three down, 3000 to go
Now let it out, let it go
As you are slowly torn away from your soul.

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