Death is a common event.

The smell of ink; so putrid yet sweet
The feel of paper.. so incomplete.
Ten children raped and beaten to death
There is no sorrow or choked up breath.

Unexpected events are a common display
Death, suicide and murder happen everyday.
I feel no sympathy for those who've been hurt
Who cares if you're buried alive under dirt?

A common misconception; we should grieve for the dead.
But why grieve if I was not the one who has bled?
Love is but a thing of the past
We'll all die. nothing will last.

Crinkle the gray, more death to show.
Who would want more people to know?
Sadness given to those who do not deserve
They're sitting on the sidelines, trying to observe.

This life is tainted dark with sorrow
Today someone died, same with tomorrow.
The truth is dead, yet repetition lives on.
A million people die, from dusk till dawn.