An Intertwined Mess

Give me the answer of these questions:
Should I say sorry because of my passion?
Because I am in grief that my creation
is taken for granted and was endorsed by a demon?

Should I say sorry because I am trying to be honest to my reflection?
I want to cover my self under the blanket all day after I heard my name was mentioned as her abjection.
Is it my fault now to hope that karma will come over her; know it as my new obsession?

Should I apologize because I was born as me?
And it’s not you, and it prevents you from glee?
Because I don’t feel comfortable to sugar-coat everything I see.
Because I heard the sweet and tender voice, the scene sweetheart, once called me crazy.

Is it not enough for you to see me suffer because I take him away; the one you called brother?
Is it not enough for you to see me shiver because you are so insecure that I will reveal your true color?

Once I heard that the sky is so blue,
So beautiful, so pure, so true.
But I am a night owl so I can see through
the sky, not so blue.

So dark. Cold. Something I’d like to fight.
I want to see the light.
My body’s aching so bad.
Is it my fault?

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