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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