What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?
Your words are too much, let me mine instead.
Now they'll see. The loss was near great, personality led astray. Crazy was somehow construed as 'beautiful'. Stop pointing blame at love and devotion, and stop using those as the delicious remedy. Fingers locked together mean something till they've fallen cold. That lock was there for a reason. Control was required, you didn't give that. You'll say all these nothings when you have read this, yes I know you are. Be pragmatic. They might be the ghosts of another story but they are not the Devil's spoke of this malady. Promises for you cannot be empty.
What did I do?