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| Falling tears of pain, of grief. Gathering of the Dark Souls, to view the spectacle of loss. Dressed in Sunday's best, combed hair, fresh breath. Tea time, of sorts, of the Dark Souls. Lifeless body, cold and pale, soon to view the spectacle pf the slimey Earth Eaters. Engulfed in eternal darkness, no light, no sound. Alone. Party of redundance, to ease the Dark Soul's guilt. Kind words and phrases, but soon to be forgotten. Time drifts away, and there will be other spectacles to attend. |
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