“Her end was her beginning, and her every new start was the end to her old version.”

She is a voice that can never be silenced, even if her echoes are transformed from blood and ink to rare gems.

She is the guardian of innocent souls.

She was fearless, she loved her darkness and basked in her light.

She wished she never knew him, but how would she learn the lesson if it wasn’t because of his filth.

It took her ages to understand that without respect there is no value or love.

How you make use of silence and uniqueness is the key to your rareness.

I deleted my words that had your darkness, instead my words with colors of power.

She never let the bruises of past become an obstacle in her growth and blooming.

She walked the path of dignity as she raised her standards.

I wish that he didn’t insult my loving the ones who wasn’t made from his ribs.

She valued herself to set boundaries without feeling guilty.

Live up to who you are, stop hiding behind excuses.

I transformed my focus and mind from pain and complains to creative conquests.

She, looked in the mirror and cried but didn’t let her soul to bleed, instead made bruises as roses.

He emptied her to fill his soul which had inifinte pores.

Take care of yourself, there is none like you.

How do you begin? The answer is simple: you decide to.

Now I begin to be a disciple. Let fire and cross, flocks of beasts, broken bones, dismemberment come upon me, so long as I attain to Jesus Christ.

We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be.

Begin to listen to what you say. Don’t say anything that you don’t want to become true for you.

When the air begins to turn colder, a warmth grows in my core that says – it’s time to start new.

Prayer begins by talking to God, but it ends by listening to Him. In the face of Absolute Truth, silence is the soul’s language.

An affirmation opens the door. It’s a beginning point on the path to change.

When the leaves begin to fall, I find myself returning to old playlists in hopes that I can feel you holding my hand, or kissing me goodnight, or hear you singing my name into songs and blueing when it makes no sense.