A Letter for 4 Months.
It's late, it's morning, it's dark. I am cursed, it's what I believe. You left but you're still here, if you left must you keep reappearing? If you left, if you don't care, why do I care?
Why don't I leave? Why am I stuck in place when I do everything to get away.
I'm not loyal to you, my faith belongs somewhere else—alas in a completely different kingdom. I am not the one, you aren't either. I don't speak lies whenever I say 'I do not care', my mind perhaps decided it does not cares for what I think.
I can't hate you, I want to—I wish I could.