Void between ‘U S’

By natt_   

She is kind of weird which makes her awesome,
Deep in her emotions or a drawn place which is like dry dump with shallow end she's just like flagrant whirlwind
She is something which is about to glow.
The fire which conquers all of the space if she lets me know.
She is asleep oh no! Wake her up.
To draw reflections,
Shimmering without ocean the dark threatens thunder up in time
blend of my life
Here's a little blend of her life
Here’s a little end to our emotions when a mistaken soul quits.
It is from me that, it could’ve been a little longer that we could know some of them are handed over and are drawn with the change.
Here we are sitting on step of another misery laying back to numb way of our world.
Can’t feel the pain which has taken over our melancholy soul.
What is the way of living and the art of giving up on life.
What about the end which will be our last memory with us and we can’t really talk about it..
The things we see at last and the force which is just stuffed in us.
Its dying right?
We all are dying and living everyday whatever is left.
It’s this moment?
Is the laughter for our soul the stroke of darkness ruining our happiness way forth?
What’s coming?
You never know.
This is our time all the way where we strive to smile and we don’t all the way.
Here is my living.
And it’s me because we are thinking of way isn’t it.
Away to conquer.
To conquer the death.
That’s all we had that day.
Sometimes it’s like a blockage of sorrow which is real and floating our mind.
We can’t really give up because we can’t.
That’s what I said earlier.
And that was some seconds ago we can’t really give up.
Wear out, come with us to the next series of pages.

Can’t we really help others or ourselves?

We need people in our lives
with whom we can be as open as possible.
To have real conversations with people may seem like such a simple, obvious suggestion, but it involves courage and risk.
I think she was afraid to love sometimes.
I think it scared her.
She was the type to like things that were concrete, like the ocean.
Something you could point to and know what it was.
I think that’s why she struggled with love.
She couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t hold on to it and make sure it never changed.

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