for our hearts are like wildflowers, blooming out of ice-frozen ground...
She had to go, and I had to stay where I always was...
When can I run in these troubling days, whilst my tears never stop?
If you can't understand it, that's kind of the point lol. This is a rare case where I can't find an answer to my questions and It's kind of messed up a big part of my life, but I don't want to mess up...
Her eyes โ the most complex masterpiece I could ever describe. Sweet and sorrowful eyes.
I couldn't handle being here anymore... so a bird was created to carry my pain away from me, to do and see what I cannot.
Every meaningful symbol is shown to me, representing what has just happened and what I feel. Her praised existence and past presence will forever be remembered.
I don't want to be the journey, I want to be the destination. I don't want to be a chapter, I want to be the whole story...
When will this wait be over? When will this weight be released from my shoulders?
She promised, and she broke the promises, discarded me like an useless object... real story of what happened to me.
A letter I wrote for an imaginary friend that feels the same as me, and has gone through the same situation I have.
Poppies grew well in the churned-up soil of the battlefield shell craters.
An imaginary tradition where we gather to celebrate our opportunity in this profound world.
Darkness, darkness in the light. The cacophony of noise. We were the first to see the confluence of events, feel the tremors, screams, see the Great Light flicker and fade. It just happened so fast....
A daughter, constantly stressed and driving back an forth from the hospital loses her mother and thinks she could never recover.
No one knows what I am talking about, but the ending surely sounds relatable
for our hearts are like wildflowers, blooming out of ice-frozen ground...
She had to go, and I had to stay where I always was...
When can I run in these troubling days, whilst my tears never stop?
If you can't understand it, that's kind of the point lol. This is a rare case where I can't find an answer to my questions and It's kind of messed up a big part of my life, but I don't want to mess up...
Her eyes โ the most complex masterpiece I could ever describe. Sweet and sorrowful eyes.
I couldn't handle being here anymore... so a bird was created to carry my pain away from me, to do and see what I cannot.
Every meaningful symbol is shown to me, representing what has just happened and what I feel. Her praised existence and past presence will forever be remembered.
I don't want to be the journey, I want to be the destination. I don't want to be a chapter, I want to be the whole story...
When will this wait be over? When will this weight be released from my shoulders?
She promised, and she broke the promises, discarded me like an useless object... real story of what happened to me.
A letter I wrote for an imaginary friend that feels the same as me, and has gone through the same situation I have.
Poppies grew well in the churned-up soil of the battlefield shell craters.
An imaginary tradition where we gather to celebrate our opportunity in this profound world.
Darkness, darkness in the light. The cacophony of noise. We were the first to see the confluence of events, feel the tremors, screams, see the Great Light flicker and fade. It just happened so fast....
A daughter, constantly stressed and driving back an forth from the hospital loses her mother and thinks she could never recover.
No one knows what I am talking about, but the ending surely sounds relatable