~~__~~*
The high pitch
squeals
the wines
the low pitch
sorrowful
voices
the perfect pitch  of those
that got just what they
wanted

The high pitch
Squeals
The wines
The ones
still ready to fight
to caw
to schreech
the ones that moan
for revenge
the everlasting
taste of blood
on there lips

The perfect pitch
the ones that got
just what they wanted
floating dreamily
a peace
ones that lived exactly as
they pleased


                        The low pitch
       cries
                screams
       ones that may whisper
given up
       that hoped that death was the peace
the answer
     But found it wasn't any better
there hope that filled them
replaced with a sword that wasn't strong
  to others
but sliced
there souls
           Till
They are hollow