Post by anneliese on Dec 30, 2007 9:42:35 GMT -5
You would think that a little girl at the age of only tweleve would be in the park to have fun, wouldn't you?
Heartbreakingly Anneliese isn't.
Back and forth the swing swayed, battling against the wind, the wind losing terribly. Her long dark hair blew wildly within the gushing winds. Tightly she gripped on the swing, the darkness of the night seemed to crowd around her, grip her body like a cat and its pray.
Only Anneliese was a pray to her past....
Her eyes fell to the ground and deep hurtful images seemed to fill her mind. Answers she was longing for. Images that was fading away, her memories, the ones that kept her happy, her only friend, her beautiful horse who had died on that tradgic night.
Gentle words she began to sang. Carried with the wind. Another would think it was an angel, an angel of purety.
Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
Maybe someday you’ll have woke up,
And, barely conscious, you’ll say to no one:
"isn’t something missing? "
You won’t cry for my absence, I know -
You forgot me long ago.
Am I that unimportant...?
Am I so insignificant...?
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me?
[chorus]
Even though I’d be sacrificed,
You won’t try for me, not now.
Though I’d die to know you love me,
I’m all alone.
Isn’t someone missing me?
Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
I know what you do to yourself,
Shudder deep and cry out:
"isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me? "
[chorus]
And if I bleed, I’ll bleed,
Knowing you don’t care.
And if I sleep just to dream of you
And wake without you there,
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t something...
Her words seem to echoe through the deady still park. The only other sound was that of the trees, the grass, god's creations. She wandered what she was?
She continued to look down, her hands gently gripped on the swing.
Suddenly she threw her feet to the ground. The swing comming to a hault. As she does she brings up some dirt. Her chest rise and falls and she continues to sit there in silence, a lost child of the night.
Maybe she started blaming herself, for all the bad things that had happend. Maybe her song was that of her falling. Maybe afterall she is an Angel, a fallen Angel.
Heartbreakingly Anneliese isn't.
Back and forth the swing swayed, battling against the wind, the wind losing terribly. Her long dark hair blew wildly within the gushing winds. Tightly she gripped on the swing, the darkness of the night seemed to crowd around her, grip her body like a cat and its pray.
Only Anneliese was a pray to her past....
Her eyes fell to the ground and deep hurtful images seemed to fill her mind. Answers she was longing for. Images that was fading away, her memories, the ones that kept her happy, her only friend, her beautiful horse who had died on that tradgic night.
Gentle words she began to sang. Carried with the wind. Another would think it was an angel, an angel of purety.
Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
Maybe someday you’ll have woke up,
And, barely conscious, you’ll say to no one:
"isn’t something missing? "
You won’t cry for my absence, I know -
You forgot me long ago.
Am I that unimportant...?
Am I so insignificant...?
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me?
[chorus]
Even though I’d be sacrificed,
You won’t try for me, not now.
Though I’d die to know you love me,
I’m all alone.
Isn’t someone missing me?
Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
I know what you do to yourself,
Shudder deep and cry out:
"isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me? "
[chorus]
And if I bleed, I’ll bleed,
Knowing you don’t care.
And if I sleep just to dream of you
And wake without you there,
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t something...
Her words seem to echoe through the deady still park. The only other sound was that of the trees, the grass, god's creations. She wandered what she was?
She continued to look down, her hands gently gripped on the swing.
Suddenly she threw her feet to the ground. The swing comming to a hault. As she does she brings up some dirt. Her chest rise and falls and she continues to sit there in silence, a lost child of the night.
Maybe she started blaming herself, for all the bad things that had happend. Maybe her song was that of her falling. Maybe afterall she is an Angel, a fallen Angel.