Dear Agnes

 

About three years, since my every heartbeat is whispering lines of sadness...
About three years, since my angel, forever gone...
Bloodless, pretending to ignore red tears of invisible people, i'm still moving my lawn...
But you used to say, there is always hope inside the desperate madness...
Breeze is heaviest and nights are darkest, right before comes the dawn...
Breaking, i sadly last daisy love letter of what's left from your undying gladness...

into my Book of Pain drawn...