In this nightmare there are no survivors; every heart beats in vain. No last words, no bullet proof ideas, all of our hopes have been betrayed. Now the world has lost its heart beat; blank stares pass to the last cell running towards the point of no return without a pulse to bring her back. Screaming to convince the night that she is not alone, but in this wind no words will carry. An audience crowds her from afar and beneath its dark breath she is buried. Gripping each moment as it passes to the next, visions of a final sunset briefly light her closing eyes; consuming the final flame to briefly wash one last memory. When I awoke this morning, the world was a withering rose, dried by the pretense of an ignorance undying. In the brilliance before the sunrise, I saw a vision of the world without a heartbeat, and my gaze would not be taken. We must mend our ways, lest we become the shadows of a past forgotten. I am no survivor; I am one of them