Cross Road Don't look at me, look at her. Her glassed, nearly dead emeralds that gaze pass your soul. Crimson strands that once lit up with passion. Now only fall like autumn leaves. She walked the same concrete path the world set out for her, just like you. You always walk pass one another but you don't dare to glance upon her, the stakes are too high that you might become like her. But you can't help it, like a predator drawn into it's prey you can't help it. She's the "original model". The one before you. I told you to look at her, so why are you looking at me?
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