Please stop burying your heart in the graveyard of a melancholic art – depicting an image of a burning sky. Stop the turmoil of your shaking ground. You’re not bound to suffer in the depths of your own haunted sound. It’s not a notable music to keep. You don’t have to weep as you watch your flowers wither one after another. Darling, plant new ones or let the stars bloom in your garden. You don’t have to meander through the valley of melancholy just to let every single night pass by – as if you’re living just to survive. Darling, that is not how life should be lived. You don’t have to lie on your bed all day, making yourself believe that you’re a sobbing corpse inside your coffin. Darling, you’re alive, and if you’re telling me that you’re long dead, let your eyes wander the night sky. Maybe along the constellations of a thousand stars, you’ll find life – you’ll find your life; because darling, I did, and now, I’m trying to revive mine.