I'm not dead. Just too busy doing work or entertaining myself.
So many things to complain, yet i couldn't write it here.
:(
As time flew past him,
He could not help but look into his past,
The memories, the living hell.
Then he looked to the future
and saw the purgatory of hell.
He could see the desperate cries of
People that he loves and hate.
Then he saw the familiar figure
It was him, himself.
And when he look at the present
He a heart that was bleeding, his eyes were torturous
The agony in his heart was see through from his bloodshot eyes
Cries that desperates an unexplainable touch.
That could sitch back his soul.
Waiting for darkness to turn to light.
He looks at the neverending skys.
He wondered the looks of light
He never seen one.
Waiting for the sun and clouds to collide.