A fateful joke, one door, two spaces. The cracks in time and space, the reversal of time, meeting you, whose fault is it?
When we have lost our original purity, are you still willing to let my hands, stained with blood, embrace you?
Is hell too desolate? I am willing to accompany you all the way, but I am not sure whether this is a momentary impulse or an eternity. Are you still willing to believe in me again?
The betrayal was there from the beginning. Is everything between us just a lie? I extend my hand, why do you step back?
If I have never been an angel, are you willing to give me a chance to be with you? If hard work can't change the result, if giving up can't exchange for a chance to walk into you, then I am willing for you to hate me. At least, this proves that you see me.