She the one with blemish on her forehead marked thick by her addiction to inflict conflict on her own soul addict she became of the fake and paradox a perennial agitator with a soul of a ballerina dancing alone with the flames of the remnant ammunition from her last battle with love with frost covering her hair it is easy to be fooled into thinking she ain't the one whom people call a hothead she the endless servant to the earthborn bathed in waters murky
no not blase just focused on other matters that matter more than little stuff like own life no again wrong no heroes here just someone affixed to priorities priorities like lives of others others like other living beings living and trying to live lives in peace rather than in pieces blase is for glory chasers and trail blazers both absent here 'cept blazing trials and life that's gory end of story.
if i die tomorrow i have no regrets for life has indeed been an incredible experience blessed was i born and blessed was i stayed throughout i do not believe in reincarnation but do believe things happen for a reason reason for my blessings i am yet to find
there's something about walking bare feet on red earth be it after the rain has fallen or just dry red dust no Adidas or New Balance can match the connection i still fondly remember the childhood runs bare feet be it a sprint with my brothers or running up to bowl a fast delivery or between the wickets scratches, split skin tiny wounds they all felt painful then but not without some sweet pleasures thoughts of childhood always induce nostalgia and a sense of loss but all is...
to burn is to shine anger i've lost mine i prefer the smouldering to the spectacular eruption for the flash will disappear in a flash whilst the smoulder has only just begun an old man lay motionless not far from clay emotionless the clay was once a flash now volcanic ash the smouldering heart of the old man still beats and beats the clay that isn't clay yet!