Oh how I wish you wouldn’t persist to make my insides miserable. To make them wish that they could run away, away to the day they no longer ache from loneliness and pain. You are a discovered conclusion to the realest illusion of a happy life. Something to help me continue the elusion of the friendly knife. Frightening enough the knife seems more a friend than you since it’s mission of finding me a happy end is true. Drawing me closer and closer while growing more enticing by the moment it prepares to seize the opportunity in hopes to own it. I reach toward you since you’re the obvious choice but that’s the part that’s crazy... Happiness is the desire but remains so lazy while death constantly courts us. How long can we all continue to await love and deny our arranged marriage?