The Black Parade

Shadows,
Moving slowly through the line.
Heads down,
Quiet sobs emerging from the faces
Looking at the ground.

Slowly they walk,
Gently the weep.
With every step
The ache becomes stronger.
For they know
That when they reach the front of the line
They will see you.

You,
Without a smile,
Lacking your joyful spirit.
The shadows will tremble,
Their knees will get weak,
For they know,
You should have lived to see 20.