The lava that erupts from the volcanoes has been reoccurring for far too long and even tho I’ve been warned that my lava can burn others I can’t help but erupt at the possibility that someone will want to burn for me.
I was in love with my own chaos, gripping tightly onto fantasies, falling into traps that swallowed me whole. I am in awe of how chaotic I am, as falling hard into my own trap saved me from who I became.
If you’ve ever climbed mountains, in the most intense storms. And all they ever did was walk up a hill on a clear day for you, you have so much love in you. Never settle for the hill for someday, someone will be at the top of the mountain.
It’s hard when all you want is the sky, chasing after the hues of pinks and blues, feeling that for once you’ve got a grip on clouds that swoosh through storms of your own. But it’s worse when you ask for the sun and receiving the soil stuck to your feet.
Every day is an up and down spiral I have become a hurricane coming in with no warning ceasing to understand where my destruction has come from at all.
