Everyones all alone, silent for all but the sound of families hearing bad news.
Those are the real screams, the screams that ruin the joy you feel on the rollercoaster with but a memory, the screams that stop films with worry for someone no one worries for.
The screams that all def men fear, and the hearing will never truly hear. those screams, I pity those who have to hear almost as much as I pity the rain, the family, the winter.
I walk alone tip tapping through these drained white halls, with cold floors, closer doors and frigid screams sending chills through my mind.
And there she lies, alone on a bed that might as well be a wet floor,
It's so ***** with the bleached out stains of the lives it lost and the ones it took for more.
Those consistent beeps, all that's left of her voice that grows colder and colder, a cold ******* sholder And winter Winter grows closer, like a rabbit to its end.
Winter
A string with a single beep on a screen,all that she left was thoselong red streams of strings now they falter my wrists.
And oh, those screams.
Made by the rich yet poor, left in winter alone without a coat and they keep screaming and screaming until they run out of air. And even then when they cough up their lungs and they don't know what to do. They still scream a sound that only the blind can hear, all alone in the cold it grows closer to frost. And yet they make the sound that chases off autumn and frosts out the dents left behind by the maggots and hope that their sound will escape soon from winter.