[im not the kind that kills people
im the one that dies for sacrifice.]
The unbeckoned melancholia
kicks in again
the visions and dreams once possessed
are turned into ashes
the histories are being washed away
with the growing tears
its not like everything reminds me of you now that i cant have you
remembering you is a habit
a curse from the heavens
of mighty disgusting angels where you once bestowed.
happiness has been an urban legend
a mystical creature
a mysteries among the river.
im not a fuckin phoenix
that you burn
and i rise again from the ashes.
im washed away by the mere wind.
so i write you a love letter
from these walls im trapped in
from the day you shot me dead
its all over the walls painted in red
the unreckoned melancholia.