The silent screams of forgotten souls
The poor things tethered to their worldly regrets
Are what haunt me in the dead of night
Pale ghosts glide before my eyes
Their images distorted by the veil between our worlds
They gather where their lives have ended
Pining for the times when they were alive
Or filled with a need for vengeance
Just the same, unsatiated
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
The silent screams of forgotten souls
The poor things tethered to their worldly regrets
Are what haunt me in the dead of night
Pale ghosts glide before my eyes
Their images distorted by the veil between our worlds
They gather where their lives have ended
Pining for the times when they were alive
Or filled with a need for vengeance
Just the same, unsatiated
