“…The story isn’t a new one The fight for light, bright, what’s right…”
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“…We board a train, drifting through the subway, aimlessly, not quite sure where we’re going…”
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“…Was it to teach a lesson, that to appreciate the sun, one must first feel the weight of rain?..”
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“… Because in that closeness, you can’t see the knife they hold…”
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Even if the ink spills, if the quill splits, Never let them end your story.
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“I’ll just rot some more…”
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“your spite? I miss it, I miss you…”
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True beauty lies where we least expect it, like the swirling wind between a patch of flowers.
