I feel like I'm staring out into a storm from the cockpit of a falling plane. My life flashing before me like a great bold of lighting. And I see your face in the flash of light among the dark clouds, your big sad face, the bloated smile from your mouth carving it into an infested open wound. I could smell the smoketrails from the venom you spit out. With the dusty flakes from your outbursts slapping the windshield, you kept on smilling as I plunge to my death. You were always such a modest trooper.
But where will you stay if the stuff that you step upon fall away from you.
Would the height of your pedestal make a difference if your audience don't know what you are about.
What are you about actually? I know where you are from, I was with you before but where are you going.
And before I go do me a favor and hold my hand as you stab me in the back. Just to make them see your pseudo love. Just to feel the softness of your betrayal before your laughter disapear in the darkness. A placebo for a poisoned heart. And for a little while keep your smile intact.