I opened my eyes, the light on the ceiling, and the tears in the pillow, I’d been having this dream lately, about if this would be the way all ends, at 6 pm, I took the knife in my hands and asked myself: “should I start with the left,” blood in the tub, I’ve always wondered how it feels to be free, the rain in the window close the fate, would they still love me after the mayhem?

I don’t take the words before they get controlled by Nero, it lets it go to the world and make the war the daily feast, reckless and restless, they always run from these bullets of tears, it’s a shield for their selfish, neat, they don’t even tear the surface of me, I asked them if they still love me after I take a step back for their victim act?

Hindsight, the moments of my life where I buried my mind to entertain the crowd, I'm feeling down for the little boy who didn’t get the chance to enjoy his time because he was playing the elder one, what a time when I can get myself to the summit with my bleeding knees and stitched heart, I'm still wondering if they still love my laugh? ‘Cause I can’t remember the last time.

One day, I woke up thinking it was time to let the demons out. I knew it would be the last time I heard their voices because I was not that worthy of having his name around my neck. After all, their misogyny disguised as braveness was engraved in stone, their infidelity was a necessity, and they’re right, I’m not a man like them, and I won’t wonder cause I know they won’t love me after I take his hand, will they?

I do everything I want, I got extra credits to be the one, I swim every night to be the perfect one, I cry in my room not to disturb the silent house, I laugh even when I am dying inside, I’ve been killing my state mind for 20 years to make them proud, but I still wonder where I went wrong? I still wonder why they don’t love me anymore.

They don’t.