Dear Blog,
I sing sorrowfully to a song,
not because of the times we shared,
but because of the hate that will come.
I move painfully to a dance,
not for the fact we had our backs,
but for the fact of knives that stabbed.
I paint saddeningly on a canvas,
not to remember the times we had,
but to re-live the grudge that stared.
How superficial it was.
Does it really matter?
It's all behind now.
=/
Erny