Look at the cities you've inspired, are they broken now? Who created you like this? Too perfect. Your beauty yields nirvana like it's a second breath, and even winter kissed you and left. Do you know what salvation you've killed just by existing? I need to be the thing you want to ****, but my grand desire exhausts itself in the net of reverence. But I believe in the forest fire that you are, and I know that one day the fire will pity me enough to be gluttonous.