you’re way too beautiful girl,
that’s why it’ll never work-
you’ll have me suicidal (suicidal)
when you say it’s over
All it took was one look. One look will set me straight, all right.
It wasn’t even a second.
I’m not even sure it was on purpose.
I don’t know how I never noticed,
but this girl is fucking beautiful.
When all of a sudden she turns her vision to tragically collide with yours, you all of a sudden feel as if you’ve been shot through the fucking head. A force so extraordinary that it defied all physics to transform itself into pure kinetic energy, launch itself onto your once lifeless body. Her eyes crashed into yours harder than a speeding 18-wheeler; but the senseless barrage was not over.
A devastating push-and-pull effect, she captures your soul with the tiniest expression with the lips. The way they moved was, in the most simplest of terms: art.
It was as if you were cut down by your sworn enemy in an honorable duel to the death. You kneel before him as part of tradition, his blade pressed firmly on the neck of your bowed head. A crescent-shaped moon begins to be painted in the air, the first side is formed. Swiftly, the katana dives down faster than a falcon with its sight locked dead on a scampering rat, your honor was ready to depart along with your soul to Hell.
But nothing. The moon was left unfinished. And its a shame, because there is no room for mercy or forgiveness in bushido, there is no translation. To be spared is to be deemed unworthy. To be unworthy was to be the same as a hog that was not healthy enough to be even considered to be made into bacon.
Quickly I draw my sword, the tip at my stomach, and drive it cleanly through.
My old life is over, for her, or people as beautiful as her, I will change.
