Is it me the problem?
Am I the one who's broken?
Why do I always end up this way?
Why is it always the same?
You said I brightened so much that it reached disgustingness.
You highlighted my happiness as something boring and annoying,
And I am the one to blame about it.
I let you do me numbers like if I was made of steel.
I tried my best to keep you in that pedestal.
I did everything I could to not hate it all.
But you made it effortless,
You made me lose the trace of it.
Somehow,
I do not know how
I started hating everything it reminded me of you.
I always liked animals
But I can't stand wolves.
I always liked my dark sky
Now I can't picture me glow.
How curious is for me the way this city where I was born and watched me grow screams your name all over it.
How the hell did you dare to fuck up everything I liked from my perfect landscape I've been painting for decades?
Not even in my darkest sky would I appreciate such consequent exquisite agony as the most crystalline blue sky that you painted me the day you faded out of my sight in the haze.
It is kind of embarrassing,
I have never stopped loving you, I just stopped chasing you.
That's the hardest, I fell apart when I chose me instead of you.
Who would've thought self-love would be destructive?
All I wanted from you was sorry,
But you never did it.
It was some kind of corrupted love.
Which I'd never dreamed of,
And I did,
I wrote a poem about it:
—The most crystalline blue sky I've never got the opportunity to gaze at and never seen;
I never did, I haven't done and I will never do it.—
