Damien Rice-My Favourite Faded Fantasy
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I loved Him, I loved him as my strange, pitiful image that appeared to me in a dream when I choked with anger, guilt and sadness and felt shame in front of this wild beast that died in sorrow; I loved and seemed to recognize myself in him with incomprehensible disgust and incomprehensible joy; or maybe I was attached to him in the way that I was used to the movement of my hands, imperceptible, like the flight of an insect, or to my thoughts, which, not nourished by anything from the outside and returning to me, reflected from the walls of my consciousness, faded away every day; or how I got used to the particular wet smell of my pitiful body, my brittle hair, my ugly mouth, the yellow hand holding the pen.
Beyaz Kale 
Orhan Pamuk
The Song of Wandering Aengus
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
FADED
These shallow waters never met what I needed
I'm letting go, a deeper dive
Eternal silence of the sea
I'm breathing, alive