black parade

you couldn't begin to understand the hours spent fighting in my head over life and the worth of its living. and my mind wonders on outside the rooms they kept me in and beyond the things they've taken from me. the world sings me a poem about pain and wishing. and again i am alone in this december. a december can hold so much: life, loss, death, rape, freedom. we pick at the wounds and begin to believe in the bleeding. truth comes in terrible forms... and it will not always set you free. can you tell a story? can you spin on sorrows and write the souls of the dying? i know that i wish i could. is someone looking on for something like me to happen? to lead out of this darkness? or will the fears reach the better of me and plagarize my heart in the words of the newborn ringing in the ears now deaf to its beating? what do we do here alone in our times, some dark army brooding forth to nothing? it makes you wonder if it's really worth the doing anymore.