His pale face, his cold smile, his love for the stars in the night sky.
So innocent, so pure, so dark.
He watches me through the window, in the best, and the worst of times.
He's always there when I cry, he's always there to see me laugh.
He see me when I sleep, he sees me when I'm awake.
From above me he always watches, no matter where I am.
He's there when I'm alone, he's there when I have company.
No matter where I am, he's always there.
He's seems to be a friend, but I don't think that he is.
He doesn't help me with the pain, he doesn't help me with the thoughts
He doesn't help me with the memories, he doesn't help me with the loss.
No... Instead he just watches me suffer.
But what a pure creature he is.
I want to touch him, but I can't.
I feel like he loves me, but I know he doesn't.
Even though he does nothing to help me, even though he's never been there to comfort me.
The thought of someone being there is nice.
