John Lennon was Shot for a Reason Converse Postulate

Given: Love is all you need.

I want to fall on you like silk tonight, folding and flowing holy water in every dented imperfection in which your true soul resides. I want to bleed myself empty in this room of waste and darkness and burn out from the inside. I've wasted far too much time weighing l'amore et souhaites, musing words to audiences of quills and wine glasses, slowly sipping myself into a casket, kissing splinters into these poetic lips. Finally, in a fistful of courage, I tear these danced texts into snowflakes that slip from my fingers as dust, as a lists of what must be done, as fortitudes and trusts that have set with the sun. Celestial spirits are ruled by sexualities, but we're more compound, we're buried six feet underground, and this allows for to say we're unfound. (misunderstood) Love is when nothing matters, when everything is matter, where we lather ourselves in self-acceptance and misery. Love is when nights of achievement smoulder down into nights of fading voices that slip into the darkness, sipping each other in caskets and groping at their silk shrouds, cursing holy water for everlasting peace.

Prove: Sin is justified.