The notes never start with a 'Hey, how are you?' Just random scribbles, anger palpable through the lines, which direct me to take a look in the mirror.
All is angst.
I sit in between those
empty bookshelves and weep.
I weep as I see
the dream fading away.
I weep as I see our vision disappear.
What you deserve becomes your need.
What we deserve is our need.
My eyes burn.
Fate destroys wishes,
so wish not for death.