Death was meant for me, not you. And yet there you went, before I’d even given you heart and soul. Taking the weight of every scar that pulls me down, so they weighed down on you. Those scars weighed you right down to the grave, they did.
And so the
righteous was made unrighteous,
life for death,
justice became injustice.
You died my kind of death, in my kind of shoes. An exchange of sentences.
But this is where love increased all the more.