I hate causing you pain
My old friend
I can’t seem to think straight
Nothing can help, I’m insane
I don’t want to hurt you
I don’t want to hurt
Is it better to pretend nothing happened?
Or should we never speak again?
I have no idea, but I know I can’t do this anymore
I don’t know how to look at you
Without an aching in my heart
So I must say ado.

Be Not Bitter in Thine Writings,
for They Be Most Wondrous Things;
Catacombious Monstrocities,
Though You May'st Conceive Them.
Words Stray'd and Pluck'd into Near-Woven Dressings,
Gone Fade with Thine Temperament—
These Things that You Shrug and Forget!—
Shall ****** Adventures unto the Intrepid,
Kind Caretakers as yet Unknown to These Days.