I… was going to write words, and they were going to make sense, and they were going to be songs of praises about his name.
Perhaps they would’ve been words about love, or about fantasy within irony, or plainly about my feelings; raw, uninhibited, loud, bold,
because I'm having way too much of them while trying to understand him, the masterpiece.
But then I watched my sanity fly, my soul depart from my bruised body and then my heart crashing, falling down for him.

The End.


Or is it just the beginning?