The world seems melancholic tonight for I feel things I had long stopped feeling
My ears, protected from what I wasnt meant to hear, fell prey to those forbidden whispers
My heart, at times alive and at times like lead, is tortured by the visions I encountered. It bleeds for what passed.
Eyes, that had died from within and had lost the spark of life, now wither away with the little movements they had
Now all this for what? All the struggle, the pain for what?
Am I just a pretty face from outside? Does no one care for the wounded inside?