Snow comes down,

In piles upon piles.

All you can see is white,

For miles and miles.

But as the sun goes down,

And the day turns to night,

Everyone’s fears comes out to haunt them,

To see the spectacular frightful sight.

As your fears get bigger,

As they are fed,

By everyone’s blood,

That they have shed.

All of the wonders,

Of the mess of ivory,

Are covered with the redness of blood,

Of th nobody people,

That no one could see.

The fears would not care,

Who’s souls they had torn,

The one’s who had died because of them,

The night before.

But still,

No one will more,

For the invisible people,

Who’s souls were torn.

For those nobodies,

Who no one knew.

Not even after they have gone,

For this I know is true.