Clung to you and cried,
  I begged you not to die,
      for the moon forgiving blessed us with another sun.
         I held your hand,
           I broke down,

How selfish, all the time it was me, me, me.
    Not your pain,
        not your peace,
            nor your sleep,

I am a selfish and a weak fool.
   who fears to be ａｌｏｎｅ

𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝒸𝒽𝑜?
𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓋𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝑒𝒸𝒽𝑜'𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝑒. . .
𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓮
   𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓫𝓮𝓭
         𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓮

Little Boy,
  you care too much. . .
     you love too much. . .
        you give too much. . .

Put your dreams first!
   𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽
It's not your responsibility!
   𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒
Go, run, be free!
  𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉

You loved them so much, they became your burden.
   You cared so much, they became your illness.
      You gave them all, they became your death sentence.
-𝚢𝚘𝚞

Reality is reductive,
  mundane tasks,
      mundane days,
         wishing for the best to come.

Wanting what we can't have,
               Craving what is wrong,
                     Forgetting what we have,

over and over again,
   Reality is  ░r░e░d░u░c░t░i░v░e░

Sacred body, yes; that which I have fully explored and mapped.

Scattered tattered walls,
  cracked and broken from each strike.

Pillars structurally not sound, against all condemnation,
  you beat, longing, wanting, leading us to a calamity.

Body, yes ; my sweet beloved.
  we know each other you and I.
     Stop, hear my plea; please stop.
         Don't beat, don't long, don't want,
               He will be our 【Ｅｎｄ】

Where is the color?
    Red , blues & orange hues.
Where is the sound?
    Singing Birds, overplayed love songs on repeat.
Where is the smell?
    Cheap coffee blends on your breath.
Where is the touch?
    Rough, gentle, callused hands.

Drifting in an endless tide of nothingness,
    Dark, silent, odorless nights.
         "I love you" loses its luster,
            "Forever" loses it shine
                 Bliss becomes sorrow,
                     Tears become strength,
                        Ashes becomes flame,
                            Red knees of prayer become sore feet,
                               I look in the mirror and find peace. . .
I learned to love again,
      not for you,
            but for me,
                 I learned to say "I love you" to the man in the mirror,
                    Accept, learn and stand once more.
                        Its easy being with you, but hard being alone.
                            Thank you my old beloved.

I curse the mockingbird,
  that sings to mock me. . .
I curse his song,
  that brings him joy and happiness. . .
Insuperable, ugly, disgusting song. . .
  mocks me for my loneliness
I curse the mocking bird and his mate. . .
   that laugh at me as they mate
I curse the mockingbird and its happiness. . .
   for in it, I see a past long gone with no future.

I curse myself
   for in my song
        I lost you
          I am
         αℓσηє