You usually know when something is wrong… br You get that strong feeling deep inside your core. br When you listen to an eagle singing a sorry song. br You see the vocals running dark like black ink. br Just like, you know when you are in a swing of euphoria. br Happy, like joyful flowers waving across the isle of love. br Written on these stones of white rose petals. br The birds looking down on the polishes cement. Sorrowful is the emptiness. br One chair in a lone corner is sitting, frowning saddened by the silence. With light, that only nature could provide from a deep hole in a stone bare barrier. br The dust swimming all around. br Along with the cracked up walls of grey wool webs. br The room echoes with the sound of pidgins wording a sorry song.