I was born with the freckle of sin underneath the skin of my right eye. They call it the symbol of a relic,one who fights for the right and wrong together. I was taught my words have more powers than my actions do. It differs for people,I guess.
But I was taught that some sprawls,a wailing demon and three words against a scrap of paper I discarded on the floor and someone picked up had more effect on you than my words ever did.
Remember when I told you I was dying?
I still am,baby. I always will be. I'm like those makeshift rockets we'd built out of baking soda and pop rocks on the 27th of May,2015.
I burn out,I give up fast. I burn fast and I crash.
Sweetheart,don't worry. I'm going to meet you soon. Up in the sky. Down in hell,wherever you are. If I end up somewhere else,I'll scream the devil's name until my screeches drive the patreons of hell insane and they're forced to let me go.
You're the one thing I have left. Well,you're the one thing that left. You're not the one thing though. You're one of many,but the most important.
I'm going to bring you back to me. Back to where we were supposed to be,back to the fountain of youth. You're gonna drink me in again?
Fuck fate,neither of us cared about what the lines on our palms claimed.
I'll be back.
