That sweet voice belting out such words. A simple brush of them in the wind. If the deadly notes were truthful, How could they be set out so sunny, so gay, so careless? The deadly notes are true. One is a careless beast. No thoughts are given. Just a mother feeding her baby, A spider forming its web, A walk through a field of enchanting flowers. One other shrivels up, A baby being murdered, An insect eaten by a spider, A flower wilting and dying in the ending world. The body is jolted and a numbness takes over. A great nauseating feeling seeps into the midst of the stomach. Shoken and revolted, Unsettled and traumatized. It was burned up in terrorizing flames. Firey, fiery, red and evil. It is not understood. So sudden and sharp it pierces through. It, not yet, has hit the heart. When one is seen again, It will slowly gnaw through the flesh, breaking through, and peircing, and pinching at the heart. That is when one other will be ill at ease. That is when one other will dissinigrate and die. That is when one other is drained and perished. It may be well off, but one other can not survive. It is the Lasy Day.
Reason for writing:
you know
Birth sign: Not entered
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