Depression

A tragedy set forth by a romantic passion that ends with death. Dost not mean the tragedy of romance but the tragedy of the world. Thy most deathly loss will spill the surplus of bloods from across the lands and break thou dearest acquaintances hearts. Thine hearts will be set on thous sleeve and lovers truly will become star-crossed. War will rage on throught the lands. Be he warriors alive, be he warriors dead.

For tis a new saying in thou land of my fathers:

"Tis not thou duty to throw thyself in the arms of love, but thy true test of the nearest future. "

Johanna lie on thee balcony where her heart was once lost to the wind. A slim of quiet utters a sound loudest to thy older ears. A scream from Johanna to thy great world hovering beneath her. Thou's thoughts of pure encouragement ended the wonderous affairs of her gift. Insane with guilt of thy sadness commensing within night.

"Save me from the darkness that incases my mind and holds in the sadness that the mirrors are deperately trying to reflect!"

Falling into sounds unheard with grace. Spinning in circles twisting good songs to evil doing. Thine spirit leaders falling to her needs. Love tis not the cause of such harm but the factor. No known cure resulting a buried head beneath where should not go. Off to thee end to the world unaffair. Cure beith death besides the life that falls below the stars. Above. thee only choice worth looking after, to see whats said.

Now slipping off into a sleep, Johanna fly to the stars with the help of thine lords true prayer.