Tick...

The eyesore of looking into the broken heart could never defeat the heart broken of eyesore.

The change in loving someone is somehow a great way to kill the time.
Because, when your love for someone is falling apart, there are no time in this world would run your clock.
The time, that still exist, is only a countdown to your self destruction.
Destructing yourself, piece by piece.
Leave you no chance to put back all your shattered self.
There is no safe way to give all your other half.
To another living soul, to another ticking heart.
As two same red hollow standing for each other in time of stumble and fall.
The wing spread wide open, but no flight could taken off.
As one most decent feather is turning to venom.
The venom that will take it all.
And kill the pain.
The pain of loving.
The pain of suicidal.
Loving, suicidal.

It is the day I die.

All the people walking down that road, cannot differ which is better than which. They just stare at each other, smile with no feeling of deceit.
All the people waking up in that morning, cannot alter the fact that a bird is flying with his destiny is untold.
All the people just don't know how the moon whispered death wish to the star, that the star could accompany him to the journey of the otherside.
The second time I saw my mother, holding my hand, to take me away, realizing that, the woman will drag me away from nothing.
It is the day I die, and I will not tell you.