Oh, what would happen if I get it out of my chest. What if I tell them how we truly are.

One, you don't care about me, literally all you do is messing with my brain and kicking me out with empty words.

Two, she is always sad, she seems to be paying a debt, like we're a curse to her life. She keeps smiling all the time, but she doesn't know that her tears run the make up out.

Three, she's always disrespecting everyone. Let's be honest is our fault, but you're perfect, right? You don't make mistakes.

Four, I miss him as fuck. He's the only one that seems to be sane, he skipped all the shit we live. All the bad things we're always hearing and seeing.

Five, he doesn't exist. Stop believing in him! Because of him you want to keep this pretending, you want people to see us as the reflection of someone that never gave us a shit. How brainwashed you must be, that even when you disserve it—when you have worked so hard for it—you still believe that is his grace.

Fuck up.

Kill me now.

Give me a shot of love.

I want to be okay.

Hope this won't be the end,