If the withered rose petals fall,
because the wind blew,
then will you ever break,
just because of what I've said?

Then I wondered once more,
to see you in such a state,
all curled up and crying,
it's no wonder I can't say it.

Touching your black hair,
almost staining them with hands,
it's so soft, and your face,
so, so vulnerable.

I don't want to hurt this person,
for he doesn't deserve it.
Innocent being, crushed by such
cruel, cruel devil; me.