Late at night id be laying in bed staring at the ceiling.Always thinking and remenising about good times,raising my hand in the air to trace patterns on the wall.Eventually i would take out a book and read it.id turn the page look up as if sombody walked into the room.Id hear it.A strange haunting sound.A voice.it sounded young youthful.Laughing maybe? no not laughing it echoed and sounded like agony.like a child who was walking the streets of new york from a murder scene of the family.in the snow.Alone. like trying to make the devil cry himself,with such pain.
Almost indescribable.That sound.It would stop and come again.
Then i realized.It wasnt a ghost or something made up.
It was me.
Almost indescribable.That sound.It would stop and come again.
Then i realized.It wasnt a ghost or something made up.
It was me.
