I'm writing a tale.

I'm writing a tale.

A tale that sings sad songs.

A tale that seems to be nothing more than just the corpse of a sigh.

Nothing that I'm writing has a straight direction.

I don't have one either, why would my writings should follow the same path?

There's always a song.

The same song. Over and over again.

And it sounds like a tale.

A tale that tells sad songs.

A tale that sounds like a story. My story.

And sometimes I wonder how I came to have one.

I've done many things in my life. None of them deserve a tale.

Not even a port-manteau word.

I'm living a tale because I can't write it.

This ain't a happy-ending story.

Anguish. Or the lack of any other emotion.

Scared as hell cuz there might be this slight possibility that I'm falling for you.

I'm shredding a tale.

I'm erasing our tale.

I'm crying my tale.

And there's nothing you can do about it.