Break her hands, then break her mind . . . if you are listening. I think I had too much, but you know that, because you keep bringing the bottles. The pain subsides only when I vomit all of the lies she fed me. She is a living lie. Where did you go? And why did you take my sanity with you?

She is silence. Blossoms unfounded. Do you still think about me?

Everything has started to whither, but they can't convince me to go home. I'm waiting and waiting, and in my heart I know you won't be back . . . but still--I'll wait.

My hate in my hands. My fate as it stands. I keep fighting and wondering what you think of that.

Alone, . . . the mantra ensues and all I see is you in that white dress feeding me dreams. My mind said to run, but my heart said to pretend you were real. Your hair was so real. My fate. Your lips were so real, but now they're just a bitter memory and I'm half a man with a tattered soul still dreaming of you.

You're my worse demon, and my only true love . . . so why don't come back to life so I can die sane?