In this nightmare there are no survivors; every heart beats in vain. No last 
words, no bullet proof ideas, all of our hopes have been betrayed. Now the world 
has lost its heart beat; blank stares pass to the last [bad word] towards the 
point of no return without a pulse to bring her back. Screaming to convince the 
night that she is not alone, but in this wind no words will carry. An audience 
crowds her from afar and beneath its dark breath she is buried. Gripping each 
moment as it passes to the next, visions of a final sunset briefly light her 
closing eyes; consuming the final flame to briefly wash one last memory. When I 
awoke this morning, the world was a withering rose, dried by the pretense of an 
ignorance undying. In the brilliance before the sunrise, I saw a vision of the world 
without a heartbeat, and my gaze would not be taken. We must mend our ways, lest 
we [bad word] the shadows of a past forgotten. I am no survivor; I am one of them