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The cries of the dead torment me, The cry of what was, is and will be. People I knew, the people I loved, Had to die and now reside up above, Most died before their right time, And none of them commited a crime, They no longer smile, breathe, or cry, Why was it them, why did I not die?
I don't have the will to live, or reason to stay.. So why wasn't I the one taken away? Whether I would have gone above or below, That is something that I don't want to know, But they would have been alive, and still here, With no real worries, concerns, or fears
by ~cow
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