And here you are,
To be led by the hand of the narrator
Down the lane of destiny in the hands of a coward writer
With only two attentions;
For you to hold the torment.
For you to feel the disheartenment.
As you walking slowly through the path of life with no breatheable air
And with every toes that touch the frozen tiles to the end of nowhere
They will feel real to your chest
Even to your heart
When your eyeballs start bleeding out of bursted eye nerves
Your two hundreds and six bones are broken and you hear the sound of them
Cracking one by one
While your skin is being slaughter underneath the sun
Decorated by a pure smile from those who hide the blade without a warrant
Waiting to grind your flesh, sprinkle with evil laughs
Just rough
To think that you are unworthy
Futile and defective object which is breathing on a blue settee
Curling up by the fire with a bottle of red wine
Assuming the tears which streaming down the face are glorious
Obviously assured that you are fine but only to yourself
Providing ammunition to the empty argument by the enemies
That's how a drop of those pain sounds like
From the open southern ocean
And that's how the story goes on
Despite the fact that you are just the same as those other humans
Not knowing what they are searching for
While it has always be me who is giving more
Absorbing everything in despair
But if that is what it takes to see you
To love you
And to have you
Then I will embrace them all
Kissing those tortures into my own soul
Volunteer to die a thousand time without any doubt
That is how much I could give you
If you let me in
If only, you allow me in.
