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

He looks up in the sky. I count stars in his eyes.

Your lips taste a lot like petrichor, on my rainy days.

Exist so loud that even if you die tonight, your deeds illuminate like stars.

Life is a burden and death is a luxury, at last we are all dreaming to buy.

And the biggest irony is you spend a lifetime finding someone to love and then die learning how to unlove them.

I’m the ocean swaying with the harmony of your moon.

Gift him flowers and watch him blushing like even fall.

You’re breathed all over the walls of my lungs and I don’t know how to breathe you out.

Your name landed on my lips like december snow and slept there forever like a baby.

You can always wear armor of your smile as a remedy for this world full of damaged souls.

Music is a weed, we all fallen souls are high on.

Ever since I met you, love wore the shade of your eyes.

When she’s drenched in agony and soaked in pain, her smile holds the art this world is dying to learn.

Unlike our flesh and bones, our souls always share a common religion. The religion of art.

Her aura was warm and I was a naive sunflower, leaning towards her.

You can see heaven or earth in her pupils when she’s smiling, and happy for real.

I have wolf blood and wolf bones. Don’t expect me to graze with sheep.

I swear if I were to rip myself open, it wouldn’t be blood that poured out of me, it would be him.

Somebody may beat me, but they are going to have to bleed to do it.

Nothing counts so much as blood. The rest are just strangers.

You gonna do somethin’? or are you just gonna stand there and bleed?

The Church of Christ has been founded by shedding its own blood, not that of others; by enduring outrage, not by inflicting it. Persecutions have made it grow; martyrdoms have crowned it.

But the love of adventure was in father’s blood.

We willingly bleed ourselves dry for those we care without ever stopping to question, when is it enough?