Good evening,

This is a love letter to ye faithless.
This is a confession letter to ye hopeless.

I often do wonder if we live in this era.
If we are, if we are not, etc.
I feel as though blinded by fears,
I feel as though deafened by gears.
All the while the world moves forward,
Leaving me in the dust, left to wonder.

There is not a day that pass without the simplest desires,
That existence has too much that it requires.
Day by day I confess through languages,
Night by night I fall again into madness.

"Who am I?" I asked.
And nobody responded.

"Why am I?" I asked.
For nobody responded.

"Where am I?" I asked.
Yet nobody responded.

"What am I?" I asked.
But nobody responded.

The burden that comes naturally with existence itself,
Oh, I wish to just leave it behind, my self.
Buried somewhere in this earth,
And for everyone to just forget I was there,
at all.

To cry into the abyss, and for no response to come.
Driven mad by one's own mind, painless and numb.
Die, and fall, and into obscurity we drop, what a ***.
Not even trumpets or choirs or even a drum.

Just gone, gone, and ever gone.

But this is a love letter to ye faithless.
A confession letter to ye hopeless.
Negativity would ultimately be pointless.
So,

Roar on, and laugh on, and sing on evermore.
"Then we'll be happy." But we are already.

Cry on, and weep on, and mourn on evermore.
"But it's oh so ******." But please remain steady-

On this path we tread, not knowing the end.
In this world we live, unsure when to leave.
But the clock is ticking and never ending.
So don't wait in drowning and stop the sinking.

This is a love letter to ye faithless.
And a confession letter to ye hopeless.
My words may very well be endless.
So,

Good evening,

Be well.

Best regards,
Noire