How can you say you know the truth,
when men are still lined up,
waiting anxiously for their turn to play
in death's graveyard?
And how can you tell me that we are one,
when, in fact, I can go out right now
and see people with half of themselves,
clutched tightly to their chests,
crying internally over the part they lost?
How do you see paradise,
when God himself is just another person,
stumbling along from madhouse to madhouse,
with a cigarette upon his lips and a toxic bottle at his hands?
How can you promise me happiness, when you, yourself
cry out your eyes each night before falling victim to slumber?
You cannot.
And so, it is up to me to forget everything you've ever had the courage to say.
It won't be easy, what with your charm.
You're not Casanova, or Romeo.
You're the one person in this world that I love the most.
And now I understand exactly why I have to leave you now.
Don't worry though; I'll come back.
And by then, you'll be as gone as I wish I was.
You'll be drowning, slurring your lies, swallowing every last drop of your sacred poison.
And when you open your eyes and look to the person on your left,
will you say 'Hi' to God for me?