June 13- My life is slowly dieing like the dark red leaves during autumn's fall. Only time will tell how long it shall take until my heart is but a puff of smoke excused from a ciggar.
My life is dark and gloomy. Screams of silence echoe like the painful silence in the halls of Alcatraz. There is no escape. I cannot "pick the lock". I can only wait for my darkest hour.
