Breathing in what you chose not to, who was fearless yet fearful as to do as none would otherwise do.
Memories made tainted by the last text I thought was you.
Tainted by a death of self-undoing, undoing every last fibre of my mind.
Hoping to undo, hoping to help, hoping to nullify the pain you felt.
Instead, you chose permanence: A fate that destroys the minds of stronger men.
Fearless as to choose poison as if it were wine.
Fearful as to not warn, fearful as to not leave a physical reminder, but instead, that of limited existence.
Leaving a permanent stench of betrayal that forever fills my lungs.
Leaving poison in my blood that shall never dilute.
Leaving a wound as to the knife was twisted and remains unstitched.
The toxin of death, seeping out my eyes.
The venom of betrayal remains in my veins and arteries.
They say it heals with time, but it still stings like the day the basilisk struck.
In this script, I write for nobody but you and me.
But sharing with the people what you shared with god, your life will be engraved in history, be it in paper, be it in computer, be it in my death, be it anywhere, it will always have existed, though none or all may know.
While your soul departs, your body remains. Same as to everyone to experience fate’s final form.
As if your life taunted me, as if you made fate, as if you wanted a broken man.
Wound fresh, blood flows, forever injured by fate, forever broken in only my mind.