hear her high pitched cries drowned by sorrow and unwillingness eyes shadowed by ghosts past and a body formed silouette shape near is the day of vengence transparent is her mind lucid as any other a psychotic mind hung high strung through memories although she ne'er remembers drained of strenght death, despair, and suffering arise shadowing over darkness rolls thunder claps in the night as a picutre is drawn out rain pouring down touching the windows soft as cotton across a smooth surface lightning draws through the sky clouds loud and vivid as such life remains but a queery to her as she searches for what is hers her life is stolen from her when she was ne'er but a child now locked aways from the world in her own damaged mind bit by bit is pieced together as she walks the night in a damp empty house filled with nothing but sounds of the storm going by and the creaking of boards, squeeking of walls and the empty footsteps of a souless ghost as she steps in the light along with the wisp of honey suckle perfume and elegant dress behind her and so the story goes....
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