Just something I wrote to my love.

I’m sick of crying
holding to your words that I begin to doubt.
Wondering to myself in silence
my darling, will you come back?

Why, like my life you made so colorful,
you causes so much pain to my soul?

Do you understand,
a little bit of that pain?
You made me a melancholy person.
Don’t you see?

Why don’t you see that
for you I kill and die?

Do you want proof?
Do you want me to die for you?

You act that way a while longer.
You’ll see how you’re killing me.
And I’m left kill.

You are the deadliest poison that pollutes my soul.

But if I leave you I will die anyways.
Should I die with you? Or die without you?
Both sound painful.