As my world falls down around me
My grievances know no bounds.
The best friend in my life commits suicide,
Her blood spilled on the ground.
My world now falls to shame.

The echoes of a silenced cry
Ring steadily through my mind,
Only to be brought to a halt
Because of the imminent time.
Her blood flowed red
To stain the rug.
And painfully,
For her cries proved it so.
I never understood her need
For the ever constant pain.
Was it possibly the drugs
That compelled her to end her life?
Or was it just her crazy friends
Who's echoes have long since been dead?

The echoes of an eternal cry
Are now bound for life.
Promises of a Hell-sent queen
Silence the shouts of angst and doubt.
Clouding the mind with dark lies
Of seemingly innocent denials
That twist and abuse the soul
Until dark is light
And light is dark.
None can reverse that which has occurred
And as hard as any may attempt at it
No one who has tried has been able
To fully reverse the effects there-in.
And she has been taken.
And thrust into a world of lies
Where black is white
And white is now black.
What is there to say to she
Who cannot tell what is truth
And believes all lies are reality?
Her echoes are no longer heard,
For they have been silenced by
The Hell-sent queen.

Her echoes have slowly faded
Back against the constant wail.
The few clear words were Heaven sent,
But Heaven is no more.
It has left us to the mercy
Of the fates and tortured souls.
And there is no salvation
With no chance of survival.
Her wavering howls diminished,
They reflect the world's angst
Showing of true pain and worship
For those not of the gods' send.
Grimacing from the torture
And aching from the speed
Of consistant battering
Her cries die down -
No longer as sharply heard.


The echoes of a tortured spirit
Bring about incredulous results
Of disbelief and denied shame.
Her moans are soft,
But still remain
For her denial quiets the volume
Only to her ears.
Her hearing almost deaf,
Family means nothing more to her
Friends mean even less.
They are an ambushing group
Of blood-related peoples
And others of mental kin,
Wanting to see her reduced
To a silent cooperative lamb.

But her echoes are still heard,
Though soft, but filled with need.
And as the people tend to say,
"The quietest voice
Is always heard."