Letter To My Killer

Here again, speaking with you... and it's September
Here the two of us
So many the written sentences to be ashamed of
In which I can't accept myself
Your always beeing there almost made me believe
You didn't exist or, at least any longer
You think I'm only speaking to my own self
It's logical and seems to be right
Though for the first time you seem different
Maybe you're not afraid of me any longer
Soon it'll be morning and
I'll hear again these ludicrous birds singing
Come and sleep with me
Let's try to rest
I know you'd laugh, you feel agitated
You don't believe in sleeping
What else could I do if not talk to you...
This closeness is very gloomy but sometimes
It seems to let me breathe
I can take it for Paradise
Where is the child...?
Tell me, if you can do so
Now, someone comes in...