It’s been seven years, as of today. Miss you pops.
"I see him as one of those pitiful things, sometimes born in hospitals.
They feed it, keep it warm, but they don’t put it on the machines.
They let it die. But he doesn’t die. He looks normal and nobody can tell what he is.”
the silence is deafening as death casts it’s shadow over night, conquering the light. the demons dwelling in your rib cage break out one by one and send you tumbling to the ground to lie in the grass and blankly gaze at the cosmos as the life leaves your body. the silence is an ominous symphony to the rhythm of a fading heart beat while fleeting dreams die in the pale moonlight. no one wants to die alone. the tragedy isn’t that your body died with no one to save you, but that your soul did. maybe it was fate, and that’s what scares me the most; that no matter what i do, who i love, that the lonely death of my soul on a cold autumn night is what i’m destined for, that when the life in me starts to fade away my screams will fall on deaf ears. that silence is what suddenly wakes me up in a cold sweat at night, just like it did to you. when all is black and the only thing i can hear is my own heart beat, i think of you and feel the emptiness inside that was left by your death. indeed it hurts to walk alone but i know i must keep going despite death creeping through the days, the months and the years, the unholy ghost.