On our blissful evening,
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I died and was brought back to unfortunate life
Then Beautifully I killed you
I wish I could kill you again and again
Each time I kill you, I love your dead face more and more
AN: In this poem, killing is a metaphor. Can you guess what for?
No matter how bad it gets just keep on walking. You'll get there eventually, it may not be what you thought, but at least you will be alive.