SuicidePeace lost, Lost on the wind Shadows lurk your feelings Darkness falls on hearts so sweet Not to demand but to grief To die is not to be killed but to be deaf, to be silent and to be blind Real life becomes the hell you seek to avoid Minds are seduced by comparable thoughts A heartbeat is nothing to the soul The line goes flat You are no more Deaf, silent and blind The body restsSuicide
Me - green
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Perhaps we are Arthur Dent's secret. Perhaps we are the threads of the tapestry within his head showing the answer to life, the universe and everything. Perhaps WE are part of 42. I, personally, wish to be 23.
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Perhaps we are Arthur Dent's secret. Perhaps we are the threads of the tapestry within his head showing the answer to life, the universe and everything. Perhaps WE are part of 42. I, personally, wish to be 23.
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