Oblivion

the music fills the room with the sounds of sadness and prosperity like it is its last chance to play to strain for a melody before it reaches a breaking point and dies out until it is granted permission to play one last tune much simpler than this and the voices fill the void with the sounds of serenity and desperation in an attempt to be heard but overcome by gusts of wind and flurries of snow before they fade out because they can no longer be heard and the words sound from the pages full of significance and life pleading to be heard but overcome by the tearing of pages ripping over and over until there are no more pages to be torn and the music and the voices and the words have gone down down down into a hole of oblivion until there is nowhere nowhere nowhere left for them to go.