Everything I know and love—
Are just some pretty words.
Neither I find myself in them,
Nor did I ever tried to find them.

Oh, how I do adore cosplay,
In silks and lace I drift, I sway.
I wear the dresses, to dance among them,
Bask in their gaze, smile in their awe.
To slowly drown in the flow.
To do love them. To do hate them.

To hate it—yet return again,
To hover near familiar pain.
To seek the thing I claim to flee—
To show the purest form of hypocrisy.
To do not want pain—
To do want pain.

To be hurt, yet sit upon the edge,
To view the world beyond the ledge,
So beautiful, so awful, so complete.
To still wait, for someone to meet,
To push me, off the edge,
Cause I can’t myself…
I just can’t myself…

To not crave desire,
To still care.
To want to cry,
To want to not.
To touch, to pull—
To do not…

To exist… in probability…
To be lost… in the farthest ends of reality…
…

Everything I know and love—
Are just some pretty words.
Neither they make myself love,
Nor they fixing my broken world.