Devastation tastes a lot like ash in your mouth. It feels like looming death hanging over your bones. It sounds like the violent shattering of your soul. It has an acrid smell much like that of rotting hearts. . . But most of all, devastation looks a lot like the beautiful, fiery girl with her fake sincerity and lies. Now, she thinks we are somehow an option that she can discard at any fucking time. Does it surprise you then, sweetheart, that I would show you what real hate is? Isn't it a tragedy after all? To wish on a star that has fallen from grace? Because baby, that's what you are to me now. A beautiful tragedy that I desperately want to make atone for all her sins. I guess we were two mismatched, vicious and tragic souls flourishing in hate, headed straight for the sweet experience of deep devastation.