Unexpected-Animator

you see no mark upon my skin you see no tear in my eye you see no sign of pain therefor I must not be in pain I must not cry myself to sleep at night or wake up screaming because of haunted dreams I must not pull the blade across my skin and hope that one day it drives in deeper I must not fear the darkness or shudder at the thought of silence I must not hide myself from life and prying eyes that judge your worth as a person upon the shine of your smile you hear no gasp escape my mouth you hear no horror tale from my past you hear no words of pain therefor I must not be in pain I must not scream so loud it's silent o

The Lament of the Dead The yards are empty, towers torn No one here left to see and mourn The bells still in the tower sing The plaintive toll that which they ring Petals untouched lay on the ground Always seen but never found The throne is barren, crown is lost Bloodied, sullied, this was the cost Betrayed, with aid, by harrowed prince Son of the king that had long since Kept kingdoms safe from armies vast Brought to an end by death amassed Never again shall light here glow Never again will people know The glory that was, but now is gone The once great city, Lordaeron

A Warcraft Story, by Kris Geddes. The man walked silently into the ruins of the once great city of Lordaeron, paying little mind to the endless whispers that seemed to issue from everywhere and nowhere. Darhen Wolken was a Paladin of the Silver Hand, or at least he had been when he still walked among the living. Darhen was an undead; a forsaken. His liege was now the Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner, once the Ranger General of Quel’thalas, now undead Sovereign. Darhen however was not here to visit the sprawling labyrinth-seeming undercity built beneath the ruins, but to pay his last respects to his former king. Terenas Menethil II.

To you, oh light, I give thanks. In all forms do you dwell My eyes grow tired from your radiance Your kindness, Your warmth, But woe unto those who drink of the shadows. For they say to me "The light is weak, for there is none." They wish to destroy me with lies, threats and death. Yet, within you I am once again whole. When I shut my lids I see your golden rays. In those times I feel blessed. Praise be the Light

He sat, in his tower, for days on end        struggling to find the words of his art. She sat on the wall, watching the warriors guard and fight        wishing she might join them He learns hundreds of languages, day by day        trying to find the language of love She lingers, waiting, after all had gone in        unloved, unwanted by all He struggles, growing impatient. She despairs, losing hope. Years pass. Finally, in the lost hour        He finds it.        He writes the letter In her last hour of an unwanted life         She finds the letter         And reads it Secret daughter of my heart I wished the best f