Date:Feb 23 2003
Once again I wake up to the sound my own scream.
Even though weeks have past, the images are still there,
burning in my mind. In the quiet lonely hours of the
night they appear, slow macabre dance before my eyes.
Some things are not ment for mortal eyes. Things that
dwell in the dark cold abyss, things better left unspoken.
Deep in side, I know that this is a wound time will not heal.