Dear You,
I'm sick of climbing mounts of fear, mounts of sickness, of wounds and scars.. I hope you will get this little world from the high place where you can see me. I know i said i would give you the sky, and well, that's what i'll do, as i promessed it, because you just deserve it. take a look at us, but please change a little bit your vision, and tell me i'm not a fool, we're living in our daze, at the bottom of our world, far away from what we wanted. I don't accuse you to have dared to let us fall apart, it's our fault, and it's not our fault. This hectic world that we are living in made our friendship foetus sleeps away, our little beatting heart is not our anymore, he's just... [...] this could be a funny way to explain my disgrace, our heart is dead yet and we put a spell on it to make it feels like it was still alive. you know, just like in my sweetest dreams, or just in people's lovely nightmares. Our heart have just been beating at midnight, and he has been burried alive.
There's no justice. And i couldn't tell you why the butcher killed the butterfly. May not our paranoia run in my veins. My obsession's hanging's vision has been killing me for too long. You can still love me if you want, and try to hate me if you can.
I would have leave you it, few monthes ago. I just forgot. it might be better like this. I'm not so proud of it.
It don't need to be understood.