The craving of not having this ending marked with the death of your presence being wasted, after you just forgave the fallen fathers, who had made it the devil layer. to hate the person you looked at in the reflection of your tears you made your home. Watching you fall, the hero you begged, suffocating with the voices you obeyed finally walking away. The tangled voices echoes beneath the walls where you began your last breath. The butterfly effect embraces the moment of your departure from our parent’s hands now yours. My breath only gets colder from your words being “i will always be with you”