“I woke up with the warrior in my blood.”

Be the wave that crashes all the sand beneath you.

Your demons came knocking and I let them in.

Strength looks beautiful on you, keep going.

Happiness, where forgiveness unfolds and peace begins.

You tasted like forever in temporary moments.

Where we ended I began.

Fall in love with the parts of you the world has never seen.

Find peace in your battles.

I woke up with the warrior in my blood.

You are only as broken as you allow yourself to be.

Even broken she turned shackles into wings.

I’m breaking and healing all at once.

Unfold your truths nothing exists without awareness.

Even without you, my story must go on.

Earn your wings by letting go.

You want your sunshine? Battle the storm ahead.

Albert King wasn’t my brother in blood, but he sure was my brother in Blues.

It is not flesh and blood, but heart which makes us fathers and sons.

She is handpicked by nature to bleed. Look, how she makes pain bow down and plead.

The Thracian people, like the bloodiest of the barbarians, being ever most murderous when it has nothing to fear.

And then writer in you is so homesick of pain, that you plead your wounds to bleed and ache.

Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel for the first violet which March brings us, the fragrant pledge of the new-fledged year.

Are you native to the land you are spilling blood on?

Even when the blood in my veins is the same as them, every cell in my body is against becoming like them. What a curse it is to hate the very thing that birth you.