The irony was quite strong

On the night I decided to kill myself,

I wrote a letter to my love,

to the woman I had loved from a distance,

to the one my heart longed to love and to hold.

She was a definition of love itself,

a portrait I had never been able to paint,

a letter I hadn’t been able to write.

She was my impossible,

and her name was etched on the walls of my heart.

The irony was quite strong.

She was in my heart, and somehow beyond my reach.

On the night I decided to kill myself,

I remembered that there were songs,

and whispers of a God who died to bring men freedom they didn’t want but needed.

I was one of such men.

These were songs of how He offered himself to redeem me from the clutches of death. The same death that I had been longing for.

The song told a story about how this God, saw the depravity of the souls of the same men he had once created in his likeness.

Men forget too quickly. I had forgotten too quickly