I don’t know who I am.

I don’t also remember what my name is.

I was lost, confused and broken the day I actually met them.

My Angels.

To the world, they’re nothing but natural leather wearing, foul-mouthed bikers, but if you ask me, they may be my saviors.

The light shining at the end of a very dark tunnel.

However, simply because my memory begins to come back if you ask me in parts, I fear the darkness ahead. Maybe the key reason why I can’t recollect anything is basically because I don’t desire to.

Life is lovely in heaven.

But hell doesn’t want to i want to go.

Contains mature themes.