It was all here,
The letter, the poem and all the story,
Was once in this cupboard full of white sheets
Each letters were written with tears and blood,
some were screaming while some others weeping
While the old ones were burning
Those white sheets aren't as white as it seems,
Those full of colour of fears and sweats
As it's burn in the coldness of the blue fire,
I end the story we once desire
