Some things are not destined to reach their owner..
To remain stuck in one's soul like a slow-killing poison..
In order to save themselves,they must free them..
And here,we witness the tip of the pens from a story whose favorite place was "distances...
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Do you think I don’t care? Alright,do you have any idea that I’m watching you? About my search for you in the morning? About my missing you at night? About my crying for you? Or about the signs that brought me to you? You think I don’t care, But try and go to the moon, Tell him that you’re Jupiter, I’m sure he won’t shut up.. Or to the sun Will tell you about the stares it witnessed.. You think I don’t care.. Come close to my eyes then,you will see beyond their radiance, If you really heard about it.. If you’re unsure,feel your hand with mine, You may see remnants of pens that only wrote your name Name.. Get in my mind,if you still have doubts You witness some events that you don’t remember at all.. If you want, enter my heart You are ashamed to doubt later, You will probably refuse to let it go again.. But it really doesn’t matter anymore, There is nothing left in my heart but insult.. -Admontion-
