I want to have you, yet I cannot take you.
I want to leave you, yet I am bounded to you.
To slowly be torn piece by piece,
to forever be tortured in the midst of joy.
To forever be shrouded in blood,
amidst a field of white roses.
To be forever dying,
in the arms of unrequited love.
Is it better to leave and break a bond, or continue walking plastered with a fake smile?
The latter seems fine by me.
