It's funny how I spent lots of time writing about fixations
Without noticing those words written were already my pain killers.
And now, I don't have to stick with cigarettes and liquors,
I know they can burn parts of me like a piece of paper;
Poured with kerosene and match sticks to easily widespread a fire.
And as they burn me,
Hoping memories will also scatter flowing against the wind just like an ember.
But those times when I was still under your pressure,
I never felt compression behind these chests when we started to chisel;
I never felt sincerity behind your "I love you" and that's the ugliest thing I can remember:
When you kept on telling me that you love me but it was never genuine enough that it turns out to be a vine that's tying my neck that I need to sever.
You were my glorious endeavor,
But it turns out to be a game some thing you're good at,
And I'm sorry because I can't play your games because I'm a loser;
I'm a loser in a game of three's.
I'm sorry I can't flow your games of emotion because I get easily bleed.
I kept on telling people around me that when it comes to love I am a fragile being,
I befriended tolerance of emotional pain.
That when I start to hold the paper and the pen,
Your name and our memories comes out with a blood stain.
And I need to wake up from this beautiful nightmare;
And I want to escape from this mediocre love of ours.
Wake me up from this aesthetic grave,
I want to feel alive just like how I spent my time with my own self in the park.
My friends once told me to follow my heart,
But when I did, it tore me apart.
I will not blame them from my brokenness because I know they just wanted me to be happy.
I will just write about fixations till I can treat myself a better therapy
See, those nights when I was still crazy about you,
My friends despised me for forgetting them as a part of me.
They never knew I was battling alone because I don't want them to feel pity. 
I remember that very night you told me you'll always love me more than you do to other guys.
And I can't put myself still,
So I have to sever 'us' and I'll be the one to say goodbye.
Good bye, my dear
You'll be categorized now as a history of a tragic fear
You put me into this fear where I can no longer identify a better atmosphere
In every angle of my room it gets darker and colder
My affection in sadness makes the room a little bit lighter
Because whenever I think of you,
It makes me feel dumb that I didn't listen to my friends telling me you were the liar.