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

Over thinkers – masters at turning calm into chaos.

Wrap yourself in kindness you deserve it too.

Freedom looks beautiful on you keep healing love.

Slow down, and inhale a little bit of peace.

I loved, you lost. Pity isn’t it?

And in between the calm and the chaos you are evolving.

Starting now, I’m building a garden of final goodbyes.

You are just as beautiful as those wounds that house you.

Learn to love in layers. One heart beat at a time.

Lets build a bridge of kindness one heart at a time.

Have a little mercy on your heart please.

You’re worth more than a temporary stay.

Treat yourself like someone you loved.

Follow the journey to self love you’d be unstoppable.

You carry your imperfections so beautifully.

Take a moment and believe in your magic.

Misery doesn’t love just any company it desires the kind presence only loneliness feeds but that’s not love at all. – love doesn’t eat it bleeds.

I woke up with the warrior in my blood.

It’s in my genes. My mother was an opera singer. I’m clearly dramatic.

Negro blood is sure powerful, because just one drop of black blood makes a colored man. One drop–you are a Negro! . . . Black is powerful.

I am quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now think vainly, flattered myself that without very much bloodshed it might be done.

Just as it demands blood, to meet bone, It’ll forever take something painful to understand pain.

Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? – Through whose blood am I to wade ?

Scenes of blood and cruelty are shocking to our ear and heart. What man has nerve to do, man has not nerve to hear.