"Life is so pointless...so...melodramatic and wasteful...to truly become what we are...we must cast off the shell of humanity...the mask of life...and take in...the warm embrace...of DEATH!"

The overlapping of voices in the streets was easily enough to drown the screeching wails of the boy on the rooftop. No one seemed to notice that he was missing, the one with the aggro coloured clothing, the one who never spoke...and who therefore never existed. Now they would know, they would all know.

As he plummeted towards the asphalt, he looked out into the distance of the metropolis that was his home. Such a beautiful and vibrant city despite its many class faults and crime problems, and at night, oh at night it was gorgeous: easily the most beautiful place on Earth. You may not be able to see the sky, but the vibration of neon lights and shimmering headlights of cars with the incessant chatter of glowworms (or the nightlife people). Clubs were filled to the brink and technologically advanced music that makes you feel high droned out in a continuous fashion in obnoxious loud volumes.

For the most part, the people were good. It is not that they were immoral or anything, but the apathetic government barely paid attention to them, and laissez-faire grew to an all-time high. In addition, with liberalism at an all-time high, no trade-support, and little-to-no government interaction: socialism sprouted and the people begun to rule themselves. The government was no longer the puppet master, or the controller, but merely a tool for show.

Little did the people know, however, that while they rested in their sweet ignorance of victory, that the government secretly had power. They had the upper hand, the ace in the hole, the trick up the sleeve...and they planned to take the pot in one fowl swoop.

These were his thoughts as he fell, falling from the sky, falling with the warm embrace of death wrapped about him like an ancient man. There was no God to save him, there was no Government to protect him, and there was certainly no Love to hold him: it was over.

Cars slammed on their brakes, coming to screeching halts as the boy's body smashed into the road like a railroad spike, erupting like a frag grenade, fresh blood shooting across windshields and passerby's. Metal clashed together in a meaningless endeavor for conquest of the road, but it was of no use, there would be no movement as long as the pancake of a teenage boy lain in the road. Sympathetic cries could be heard around, but none seemed sincere, none of them knew this boy who's entrails crossed the road like Caution tape, none of them knew the boy who felt the need to die, and damn none of them would of done anything to stop it if they had none either.