It's haunting, taunting.
It's as dark as the black of the eyes closed, excluding the billions of multi-colored dots visible in trial. It has the trademark hair and the trademark eyes with the trademark accessories: Its vibe, mystery; its inner cry, silence. It has come forth to conquer people of the same expression, art and sound.
It's dressed by eyeliner, black, and more black. “Emo” could be just a word, a fad, or form of expression. The challenge of these times to the youth could be to blame: the inexplicable pain, hurt, anger, and depression, or the daily hectic student life which aims to balance schoolwork, relationships, conflicts, family and the same old life game in a span of 24 hours each day. Nothing beats some loud music to awaken the sleeping mind, or aggravate a wounded heart. On both ends of a rope, "wicked" and "favored" are tied on a knot pulled by the people who either follow it, or feel it. It could be the passion; the way the emotion of the art and music makes ones feelings intense and easy to handle. But it could be the wicked and immoral truth: A slashed wrist or a bleeding anything is not what being an "emo" should mean.
'Emo' could be considered a fad nowadays. But it is a sense of belonging, not exclusivity. It should be able to emphasize the fact that one is not alone in hardships and pain. It's not a cult, or something that manipulates faith. It should not kill you, or hurt you, but instead help you.
