No more hope for me. And I wish, it was different. My body keeps pleading for a better us, but what did I expect from me?

And my soul still doesn't remembers the first time it happened. I wish I didn't had a reason to cry, I wouldn't be so tired now.

Touched and withered, love saves me from the tragic sensation of desolation. I carried weapons and found lovers, but none like you. Without a doubt, my heart pleaded for you and for your hands upon me.

My soul is rotting