Never been born to feel loved by someone and by someone not meaning my roots but a bee who'll go to the chosen flowers if it thinks that they're pretty enough to be touched, to be discovered by researches, to be plucked by humans, to be sell at the florist, to be the one who will heal upon a curse.

Maybe it's true that love doesn't exist.
I guess romance had run out of it's capacity for billions in this world as I remember that candles too has its finishing line as it run in its lane before it all goes blackout once again.