the way im talking im a letter to the illiterate but i hope you you feel these wirds and makes even tear a bit not everybody get to quiet their bain not everybody gets to silence the pain some of the people with the best intentions can wind with the deepest impressions tho theyve commitment no devies transgressions they find themselves in detremental depression can you imagine being the first on scene too minivan t boned by a drun teen looks like it got slit out if a washing machine dropped from 30 feet and thrown into a revinee most of the van is a tight crunch of layers of metal, a soccer mom plus 3 of the players the blood driping blood keeps keeps a steady beat the a weak pain plays the melody you grap your light you finally see her only just in time to watch her spirit leave her that mamed faces deepply etched in your brain you will never see your own children the same i dont want to see no more take these eyes away those flashing flashing never leave me alone as soon as i see them it puts me in the zone but im .not at work im just laying in bed but now filled to brim addrinin and dread i will may never sleep if i do its not free the horror that ive seen only waiting for me like a whole stage set with just me in the audience the scene they act makes makes whole bodys tence whay is is ever part played by my family it to realistic got my heat beating clamily