To lose the one you love rips your insides out in a bitter wirl wind of blood and tears, stained with hatred and hurt; your heart the base of the pain. The ever growing urge, provoked by the beating of you heart, wanting to tare away viciously at your head and heart, is prevented by the fear of peering eyes finding the hurt you feel. You try, and fail to hide your pungent broken heart, given away by the loneliness swimming in your hollow eyes... When you lose everybody you love, you become immortal. immortal to pain, to suffering, to death, as to you are already dead inside. All that is left is a corpse, roaming the land, until you find your existence once again.