There’s this war we fight with our shadows. The chase ends and we fight with swords carved out of pieces of broken hearts; anger gushing on it, tormented. The gloom hides, but never leaves. We chase visions of a blind love buried long ago, where
If I made a commandment it would be: be free, To think and laugh for as far as your eyes can see, To remember your health and forget all else. Bad memories make the good ones great. To forget you’re human and just escape.