Cowards cry in rain, they’re afraid of pain. What is sorrow that’s not felt when tears crawl down your eyes like razors cutting through skin? I’m not afraid; to face, to embrace, to fade. Again. I refuse to comply to their subjective morals, those flawed beliefs and pointless faith with a distorted sense of self righteousness. I choose my fate; I’d rather fall for what I hate than stand up for what they love.