It's almost 4am now, and I can barely fall asleep. Thoughts of you keep haunting my mind. They taunt my emotions and boggle every single sanity I have left in me.
Today; not tomorrow, even if it's already pass 12.01am as she has not awoken yet, was rather weird. You surprisingly did not come to mind, even your picture, not even your words. I guess this is an improvement. Nothing was felt. However this scares her, has she lost all contact of feelings within her, again? It is funny how she never did wanted to feel this way ever again when she got this very same feeling the last time, but the pain inside, was a little too unbearable for her fragile structure to endure that it went to the only mode possible. In every aspect of her life which she has shared and opened up to you, it is in all these aspects that you come haunting; both day and night.
Even behind curtains where she tries to wash the pain away, scrub these scars so that no one else could see them, ever hoping that they would just fade or have new skin patch it up, you just seem to creep in like the shadow. The shadow that you are, never to be spotted in darkness. Yet when there's a glimpse of little light, you show up, hoping to continue your scripted play.
The characters you made up, were all so convincing that they would win all the Grammy of the year and even years to come. To you, it was a true story being played on stage. It was your stand where you would direct as you like, conduct with any other talented masterpiece, just to have your own chef-d'oeuvre. Without knowledge or consideration, to be exact, of others. The price to pay. Trampling over those you thought were mere puppets for your entertainment. Waltzing marionette, blinded and binded who abide by your words. Binded with such wizardry whom none would want this master if not for it. Strings as they call it, the devil's play.
"C'est la vie," one would say, and "ce qui se passe autour de revient autour de" too.
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