20 July 2012
Fallen.
There isn't anything left for us here anymore.
Smoking.
They are falling, the skyscrapers that had defined us.
Pooling.
Blood and detested tears mingle indiscriminately.
Music.
Screams break into the air, begging for a reason.
Remorse.
Cold eyes watching a child cry over a mangled body.
Fire.
Storming the gates of Hell screaming bloody murder.
Death.
Crows congregate on washed out tombstones.
Chaos.
A girl clutching an ash-painted headless doll tearfully.
Ragnarōk.
Panic engulfing a race doomed for its parents' sins.
Ragnarōk • Opuss № I