All for you.

Every second we take and make our own were creating something beautiful, like a love poem. 
Something written by the hand of Shakespeare’s lifeless corpse. 
We know what to expect from life but somehow we still get caught.

We get caught out by sudden turns of events.
And now the silver lining is at times my only defense.

This road seems to go on forever but it never goes anywhere, because that someone special was never there. 

Panic attacks without a constitution deliver a verdict of guilty on own terms. 
But no one ever reads those terms so we agree to accept people as fucked up as they are and appear shocked when their true colors come out. 
But since the music is playing, we can't object to the way our feet tap on this drink-spilt-floor where thousands of broken relationships were born on. And clearly my dear, we are no exception.

Now there are three stories all happening in a row. 
The story of me, 
the story of you and the third story of this buildings ledge I’m standing on.
I couldn't have asked for a better setting.

The perfect weather for my dying mood and the cheapest wine, my staple food.