Ashes....ashes...they all drift towards me... borne from the bosom of the searing flames; the dancing tongues of devils...swaying in the wind in time, with the sound of my death. Closer and closer, do they move unto my form, until the rain does hit them, hissing through the flames so softly, making them waver. Making me look at the sky for the first time in ages, and wonder just why, it is that I deserve this rain.
TNS Fourms