This is a sad sonnet, coming through my veins, whispering through my breath. These are the last words of an endless adventure, this is the final dot and the consequent new fresh so long waited start. Here is my soul, served on a golden plate. Here is my body, since I no longer have blood, since I no longer have air. And these are my tunes trying to convince myself that this is not my resignation, this is not my final attempt to get you.
I'm just gifting all that I am, all that I have and all that I could possibly be to you, cause all my reasons that I've ever known are falling down on a leak, are hitting a wall, collapsing in less than one day, are exploiting in million pieces. All my reasons, all my beliefs and all my hope are being written on these words, cause probably are my last ones about you.
You don't deserve any more than these ones, you don't deserve any less than what I gave.
