stolen.

I crumble in my own little shell. Throw out all the left memories and keep my self locked in the blossoms of darkness. In a tiny frame my soul is trapped. I trapped in myself. Cancelled all days and all nights; they are blended together. I would skip all holidays and miss every single celebrating day. This needs to be stopped. Stolen goods from the poor and misread letters from your and mine Buda. Never will i thank You for what you have done. Never again will i be able to appreciate the good things they have done for me.
I don't exist, not in the form that i used to.