when your last breath is a pond your lips, your fatal last words only silence as ou die. Your heart beating like a stone drum. The silence broken only by the sun's riseing. You lay broken and dead below a tree ontop a hill. Chidren giggling below running and chasing, days go by day after day you lay no one wondering or conserned of were you are. then your gone and forgotten as the tree to dies and the place you lay darkens as more trees grow condeming your death and tomb. Your bones below soil and trees keeping the sun from entering your chambers. children no longer giggle or play but work at their jobs and the haunted hill no one wonders into,because those who have never get out.