When warmth is stolen by darkness hand, who will hear the cries?
Ones that are silent are never heard, but always seen.
One that echo in an empty area, are always heard, but never seen.
Silence grips the heart, hiding it away.
Pale wings encase the body, loneliness is all they know.
In echoes of forgotten memories, silent whispers form. Scared. Alone. Locked away in the cold darkness.
Only the Dead of Night can hear them.
Silent cries and Silent whispers.
Forgotten cries and Forgotten whispers.
Are they the same? Are they different?
Do they even exist? Are they just in out minds?
The living do not know.
We never will.
But who does hear them?
Only one.
It exists when an area is silent.
No dogs bark.
No children run.
No birds chip.
The only one who can hear the cries.
The only one who can silence the world.
Even if for a few hours.
Is the Dead of Night.
Ones that are silent are never heard, but always seen.
One that echo in an empty area, are always heard, but never seen.
Silence grips the heart, hiding it away.
Pale wings encase the body, loneliness is all they know.
In echoes of forgotten memories, silent whispers form. Scared. Alone. Locked away in the cold darkness.
Only the Dead of Night can hear them.
Silent cries and Silent whispers.
Forgotten cries and Forgotten whispers.
Are they the same? Are they different?
Do they even exist? Are they just in out minds?
The living do not know.
We never will.
But who does hear them?
Only one.
It exists when an area is silent.
No dogs bark.
No children run.
No birds chip.
The only one who can hear the cries.
The only one who can silence the world.
Even if for a few hours.
Is the Dead of Night.
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