you knew i always practice my confession-
reckoning you're aware it's all about love not a mere depression,
i would rather be seemed like a broken record
for losing to the one who've been the subject why pieces of me gradually scattering inside is what i can't afford.
in the middle of the night i admitted that i was so jealous in your myriad collection of heart,
you picked them as though you're a costumer adding a stuff to your cart,
and you've forgotten to leave the flower you plucked in your jar.
so i killed you, planted your heart in mine and left your body in my car.
DART AZRIEL
