The walls were all shattered,

too late was the date.

And yet all that mattered

was my and your fate.

Now turned to thin air,

foreseen yet not seen,

now turned to despair

of what might have been.

When I cry here, forget

that fantasy tale.

Let your mind just be red

the red that does fail.

For the wounds were too deep,

the world is blood-stained.

Yet how could one weep

when just beauty remained.