The moment I started to hate the sound of music

I saw her face, so beautiful, so brave,

The kind that could restore anyone's faith.

Her color as pale as light.

Her thin hair were turning white.

Light brown eyes, I could see through her body, her soul

And when I did I was assured her purity remained even after the scars started to appear when she would grin from ear to ear.

Each time I glanced at her face it made me feel at grace.

I wanted to tell her how great she made me feel;

Until a cold breeze ran by, it started to rain and my view changed.

Her face started to flush, it was no longer pale: a shade of red it stayed.

I noticed a shine in her light brown eyes.

She started to cry.

I would have done anything to change what had been but then I felt nothing more than another burden,

Regretting all the poor made decisions that must have hurt us, wasn't going to change the broken.

I realized how the other side must have been meaner.

I wish I could bring back the dead, change time and stop the pain, stop her eyes from bleeding.

Then I understood:

Purity does not belong in the world of sick, my whole world went dim

The moment I started to hate the sound of music.