the morning after
and the night before seems so distant. a fading memory tucked into the dusty corners of our hearts, stored away for the next conflict.
but it doesn't work like that, does it? the holes can be draped over with patches of nice words and jokes and smiles, but it's still there.. isnt it?
and maybe it's during the darkest of nights when all masks finally come off that there was finally truth.
and now, all there exists is...
it's a good thing You're here... huh? =/
it covers me.. it covers me...