searching.
i've got an arsenal of artistry i keep loading up different outlets are my weapons and they're filled with my confessions
dear friend,
dear friend, your eyes are dead they're hollow and glassed over and they seem to play pretend like you're awake and full of life
beauty doesn't always have to mean pain.
the real tragedy is living a life uninspired where our dreams will flow with hollow words begging to be filled but we drown them
a day like today.
on a day like today my eyes softly open to the sunlight peeking through my blinds as the sun gently touches my sleeping face to wake me
the ugly truth.
the ugly truth about your pain is that it is unique sure, other beings might have gone through a similar situation in the general sense
me vs. reality.
the nerve you must have to tell me to get out of my head as if the exit signs weren't blindingly bright a blinking neon red
always space.
i've died in a room there flowers bloom raised from the depths through the abyss of truths unspoken proof i was here changing and growing
be not afraid of the mind.
beauty is the mind that wanders the worlds most powerful tool the creation of galaxies each with different suns, stars, and moons
