i used to keep the flowers they brought at midnight because nine pm the sun still shines i was grateful i was hopeful sometimes defeated but hail lord of the blue ocean and green grass is here with us i wish for their happiness but evil takes prayer away so they become a sad monster at the corner of the room trying to do something without feeling ugly and i become dust hell is other people but my hell is not the other my hell is the we because we take for granted the hours and minutes of listening we pushes away but never let go we want to go but afraid of failure we have become toxin to each other the hidden anger the unspeakable words i hate us i want to go and the more i talk to them the more i hate myself “please fix your personality” but it seems not possible because their history engraved i want to scream out loud because my nerves start crumbles please let me go so i can say goodbye i want to say what anne hathaway says to jim sturgess with her bad british accent “i love you but i don’t like you anymore” it’s painful i’m at false so i just want to drown because we don’t