Melancholia
Sometimes the nightmares are recollections of early childhood years. Those who should have been innocent, wonderful, no fears
for now this awakening, this lifetime almost impossible to heal
always this shadow, this vague infant me following my heels
the Lily May character, isn’t really who you see, but the only way for her to live
is by living through me. She a variable reality, a dream, a frame, I trespass ever day
she snatches glimpses of the old me away.
And now dear friends, I grant her the conditions to be
which also means the killing of me
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