If to bleed was an option,
I would bleed till I was drained off every drop of you.
If to cut was an option I would severe every thread that binds us.
If to scrape was an option, I would scratch every cell, every gene.
I would remove every testimony of the idea of me being an extension of you.

And it's a pity that even on bleeding rivers,
even on cutting every inch of skin,
even on grating every visible trace of me,
Up until where death leads me and beyond it,
You and I cannot be seperated.
I am ill-fated.