IRC-Galleria

I miss the past time. I miss the time when we used to sit and talk on the rock on the top of the hill. We were winners, or at least we thought so. Those times are gone now. From now on, there will be only sorrow and darkness. Everything where we trusted burns away leaving scars that will never stop hurting. All the promises we made will come back to our minds, like nightmares, but you can't wake up. This is not a bad dream. This is the truth, and it will be hell. You can always hope for the better, but hope is traitor. I will never be nothing more than a hollow shell wandering around this cold and cruel world. And you will never see me again.