Within my mind's eye, a sad sad cry of a child calls for hell to burn. Concern for my well being from those closed to seeing, echos in the chasms of my soul. I know the me, I know the "I", I know what it takes to make me fly. Death beckons to me with talons stained in blood, yet I turn away from the day that simmers in the cold. Listen to me and set your child free, for today, tomarrow it is all the same just play the game that separates us from the dead.