“Darkness attracts me, it’s the only time, I can cry in peace.”

As I pen these words, tears flow from my pained heart onto my trembling lips, and the soul seeks release from daily abuse.

She schools her heart and soul to let go of the pain that she feels or has ever felt or else it will never let her heal and grow.

I am a saviour, I let you see what is to be shown, I don’t let people walk all over me now.

I loved him greatly, only to be hurt and destroyed by the unstable feelings breathing within him.

She is the perfume that scents the environment she blooms in.

I thought he was my peace, but instead I became a piece, that resulted in my peace transforming into my poison.

I am not a duplicate multiple soul, rather a unique rare blooming nurturer, so never compare me with other precious souls.

She was his laughter, that filled the air passages with freedom of living, his creator of smiles.

She is a self critic but in a positive manner that doesn’t let the warrior within her get demotivated and sad.

I am a canvas, that I design with colors of identity to madness filled masterpiece of worthiness.

There are those, whose existence drains your life, so never let them rule you.

She spills the oceans of words and feelings on the pages of earth, transforming it into the green blooming planet.

The sunset on the beach, calls to her, opens your aura, and releases the power of peace in the air.

His palm held the tear, that had tore him down into shards.

The art to breathe and smile despite the pressure of anxiety, takes courage and power, keep appreciating yourself.

The pearls on her wrist, giving out the green light of emerald nurturing, sparks the flame of life in his eyes.

All the clouds in me are raining.

I could weep for a river-valley, and I have. But for a country? Oh man, I don’t know.

Authentic men aren’t afraid to show affection, release their feelings, hug their children, cry when they’re sad, admit it when they’re wrong, and ask for help when they need it.

As I pen these words, tears flow from my pained heart onto my trembling lips, and the soul seeks release from daily abuse.

We suffered. We worried. We lost. We wept. But loved, and laughed, and cared, and helped.

And still as an adult like I do as well, you know what I mean like I literally just cried in the first interview that I had today. Like, I’m just a very emotional human.

Illness and problems are the specialties of life. But the death of a child is a cause of mental agony which can be overcome if one concedes this world to be a stage or stadium wherein praiseworthy are those who are not proud of their achievement and those who do not cry at their defeat.

Be happy with those who are happy, and cry with those who are crying.