Opthalamic shut down
Images of death form
From nothing, shadows rise
Printed upon them
Faces of all the people
He once knew
Twisted with regret and
Pungent with scorn.

Arise Slowly hours after
Thougths swell with sadness
Forlorn for the visions of the night
Are still in sight

Time... tears by, The routine stays
Dreams... return, his mind flakes
Death... Stalks, his every move
Fate... breaks, his mind from truth

Pain, forlorn
Love, burries itself
Hope, forbidden
Hate, grows for the creator.

Fists pound on the walls as they close in.
Questions arrive in the fragile mind.
Nothing to answer but dispair

If they only knew.
Drive them from sickening innoscence
Show them that some day
They will all die with their love
And leave all they're nothings behind