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dear me, what have i, for the prayers that arrive with the dead sunrise to maintain the tenacious grip of fear like there is no closer second to me? how many times do i have to say i sleep to dream of you? dear me, i beseech you; make me an essence of the subliminal bond i yearn to hold. make me a delicate balance for your every tinge of lack. in tears, i wait for dear you to catch my dying fall. for every word that you may not speak, brave me enough to be inspired towards the road to mend. so take her away dear me. do not fear me and you will have a beautiful life ahead. hold me and i will make you fall in love so that you will never leave. i think i will never break you, and i think i just need you to know that. dear me.

today i am a caricature of myself as i brutally exaggerate and criticise every of my prominent perculiarity to enhance the grotesque effect; in order to satisfy destructive self-fulfilling prophecies and proving that much substance exist in murphy's law.