None other than myself have I given to this decaying soul, a petrified body in itself.
A shame to mankind and all the people to be around of it. Still, truthfulness stays fading away from me, and all my mouth can spew are pitiful lies. My dear, I am sorry to not have opened up like the book you, and I have wished myself to be. All the pages filled with lies and regrets have corrupted the very pages of a seemingly empty book, standing upon one of the thousand shelves of life.
...
You've given me no choice than to be silent.
How much I'd like to let you know what I've been through, go through, still.
...