I buried the stars with every devil in me. I smiled at the moon. I would throw up the trees, And would go little magical. As I synced with my rhythm. I couldn’t get with my sense. And that’s the feeling full of fake emotions.
Smoking a cigar. Red pale eyes. Sad from bottom. Dry blood, broken veins. An idiot at the seaside, smiling at the waves. Feeling so lost and lost with life, lost everything that
conquered him. Hated by everyone. I feel so heavy, Heavy at my thinking, that I couldn’t resist him from dying. So I stabbed him, Again and again so as to make sure he is no more to take
away my lady luck. With
Postcards. They were never send, never meant to be read. They never reached Adeline Henry Redwood. It scattered all around my room, shouting as loud as they
could. But no one heard them, heard them cry. I burned them until the last word turned to nothing. And I exhaled in relief.