It killed me to the point, that I chose distance,
It killed me to the point, that I started to hate a song and a dance,
It killed me to the point, that I tear up a little when it rains,
It killed me to the point, that I imagined my skin was full of stains.
It killed me to the point, that I threw all my dresses,
It killed me to the point, that I gave everyone cold glances,
It killed me to the point, that I stopped writing for a while,
It killed me to the point, that I killed all the daises in the pile.
It killed me to the point, that I deleted all my images,
It killed me to the point, that I skipped every pages,
It killed me to the point, that I can't even look into my reflection,
It killed me to the point, that my only option is self-destruction.
Everytime I remember everything, it kills me,
Everyday, I die, you'll never know and see,
All I can do, is to watch myself being shattered,
In your own little paradise, where my pieces were left scattered.
