10 September 2012
Words whispered in the wind, Like cryptic messages from above. Breath of the lost souls from within, This place of hate, not love.
The scattered bodies of the dead, Litter the blood stained floor. The bitter taste of fear and dread, Taint the air forever more.
The shattered souls of those who lived, Are haunted by the memories. The dead. The lost. No hope. Forgive! For the slaughter of thousands in cemeteries.
We try to forget, but for our health, We must always remember the sorrow. Or history's doomed to repeat itself, And for mankind, they'll be no tomorrow.
The Harsh Reality • Opuss № I