As the horrizon fell into the dark.
I could see only the souls leaving.
Leaving their now soulless bodies to never return.
As bodies and their souls fell.
So did the fire from the deepths of hell.
So mean and cruel.
No feeling of love and or pain.
Only the ones who know what to look for,
and know the horrible pain of the lost.
The lost of themslves and of their quardian angels.
Who protected them in need of help.
Up above the old beatiful bridge the souls.
Dont know where to go.
So the ones who know they belong go.
But the ones that dont, will stay.
And wonder this lonely world alone and trying to find where they belong.
They haunt the ones who made what they are now.
And live with the horrible memories of the past and the furture.
Seeing the prestent and the furtures of the next to go.
The next to go will not know untill its there.
But yet in a way they will know.
With no questions or answers not a word will come out.
All they will is a dark figure in the dark.
The figure is the darkest and the blackest that anyone could ever see.
Anyone who has , hasnt been able to forget the horrible sight.
And has to live with the pain,
everytime the sun shall set the dark will come.
The sun sets over "The Bridge of The Dead"
The souls of the lost come out.
Screaming with the pain of the sight that had taken them.
 
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