Ever since my house burnt down
I see the moon more clearly.

What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.

Hurting them back will not heal your pain.

But, we must never hope in anything.
Hope is a terrible thing.

Her heart chooses to feel what her mind chooses to ignore.

Look into my eyes,
hear the words I can't say.

And I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.

You made me believe in something that was not even true.

As if the clay you were made of,
was kneaded with rose water.

But why does everything you bring close to your heart must hurt so much?

I know that I am ruined, and that I'm ruining others.

This time the wounds aren't healing it's becoming more fresh as time passes by.

I was with them and yet I was alone.

In these times, appearances are more real than reality.

And sometimes, it's okay to miss what never belonged to you.

I might be the writer but you'll always be the words.

You will recognize happiness when you see it die.

My independence, which is strength, implies my loneliness, which is weakness.

I love remembering. More than living.

Because the people I most strive to please do me the worst injuries.

I just want a day where it feels like I'm not falling apart anymore.