• sangfroid_soul 10w

    show of blue ends. Purple begins.

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    living death

    each word uttered by a writer in fury is equivalent to bullets fired mercilessly directed to his own head

    each poem carved by a writer in love is a pearl made out of a piece of his heart desperate to immortalize his muse

    each season experienced by a writer is an ode to time, a torn paper crumbled beautifully as spring, white as snow flakes, the name of his mother inscribed on the upper right with warmth of a summer, and letting it go like a maple in autumn

    each moment felt by a writer is lived as his first breath; he knows he has a lot of time left but never enough to be enjoyed wholly

    each person close to a writer is a stolen living memory from death