Eu sou pesaroso, deixei-me pedir este espaço por um quando.
Obrigado.

I think this is it.
I don't feel like it anymore.
Whatever I have now, may I so foolishly and selfishly charge you to take it all back.
Words are vicious, they may materialise even quicker than a blink.

And I would never want that to happen, but yet, I have asked you to do so.
Perhaps this is Man, naked and meek.
Uncertain and dwelling in stupidity.
Perhaps this is what suicide really is for.

Death, is so slient and innocent.
What taints it is not the lifes that it takes, but the lifes that came so freely to it.

Spare Death the agony, the blame always rested on its reaper.

Please, just have me alone here now.
Over, it must be.

We'll be leaving soon.
Hel will never allow our intrusion, nor will Hlín give us her condolence.
We are not blessed souls.
Loki must be sniggering at the foot of Yggdrasill, in his hands a blade stained with the blood of Skuld.
And that ceases our future.

I think I have just fallen out of love.


Although I may speak of them so strongly, I know I lied.