11:11

Maybe you do it because you believe.

Maybe you do it because you want to make fun of me.

Maybe you do it because you have hope. But for what I do it for, is just illusion, a dying hope. A cold, lonely, dark night. An empty feeling, that swallows everything in sight. 

A lonely night I hope to survive, so expective on the spark of a light that shall carry me through my path. 

Wicked words with no meaning lost into a fake meaningless laugh.

And you can save me, but you are afraid to take my hand...

I guess 11:11 has always been false.