The days are long. The nights are gone. And death is near.
In this chaos there is no one to hear these words, these cries of pain.
She whispers to me: it will all be over soon. But i know it won't be.
Life is dragging her along, taking everything it can.
Mercy has fled and all that's left are these muted words.
No one to hear, no one to care. The pages become books...books filled with unwanted thoughts. They go unread. But left unwritten would mean a death of my own.
This is why i write.