Even blood that pours down form the slash wound to the
chest needs a reason, right?
Don't Humans feel at ease by hurting other people?
Why do you look so disgusted?
Deep inside, you deceive yourself with things you don't
know, right?
Will we ever understand each other? Is it you not wanting
to?
This is the garden of suicide. Are you having fun?
Will my dreams come true at that garden?
You don't have a reason to live in front of you?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
In front of you is a box garden full of all of you people's lies
and deceits.