And with that,
I lose it all.

I kneel before my demons.
The angels have fallen.
Their wings are broken.

The string is stubborn,
Refusing to be cut.
So I keep on living.

Future is grey
Everything is heavy.
Oh life, when I'll be dying?
Because for a while I think I have been walking with a heart broken too many times, and a soul that is littered with scars.

This world is not for the sensitive.
For those who were warm as the summer, became as cold, as harsh as winter.

They once bloomed and smiled,
Now wish to die and cry.
End the tragedy.
But how does one do that without letting the pain spread?

Oh, how selfish we are.
How selfish are they.