The coquettish and effeminate girly act doesn't work, playfully being sexual and kissing with cold lips, excuse a blush. It's a variety of woe. All it takes is honesty. People can't do it, they can't give a gift you don't ask for, so I remain with a blank sadness, empty, hollow and alone.
I never sleep. God can give you a smile, your face like a poem. God can kiss your eyes while you sleep in your little cocoon, God can give you happiness found only in dreams. When you wake up everything is dirt colored, rotten and a world without light.
Thank you for hurting me.