The Black Parade is dead.The Killjoys are born.

'okay this is my last please stay phone call' 'nah' i say 'im walking out the door now im at the airport you can vist me whenever you want' 'No! please stay, you my best friend' 'im sorry i gotta go i have to load things' 'ok love you bye!' i pack my things hand in my key im off to london

-REWRITTEN/EDIT THE ENTIRE STORY ON 7/24/17- Coughing, the smoke swirled in front of me as beams of black and white flashing lights raced across my vision, disappearing as quickly as they had appeared. My lungs ached as they tried to pull in clean oxygen, my eyes straining to see through the grey haze. Once the smoke dissipated some, I could see we had appeared in the middle of a road. It was cracked and full of potholes, the yellow lines coated with dirt and grime from over the years it seemed. Taking a better look around, it looked like a bomb had gone off and I was witnessing the remainders of a city.