underneath the lonely sheets covering our beds.
i wonder, dear, if you would come
to my funeral, if they shot me dead with a gun.
girls break your heart and take it too,
and all you’re left with is a tendency to feel so blue.
she changed with time, or just faked the past,
and now my whole world’s crashing and ending so fast.
maybe an apocalypse will save
me from everything that she had ever gave -
i pray she sees these notes some day,
and realises that through tough times you should stay.
it was so dangerous to gift
her with abilities to control and shift
my mood, my smile, and how i feel.
if our love ended, then was it ever real?
Luka.