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 
cell running 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 become the shadows of a past forgotten. I am no 
survivor; I am one of them