“The voices in your head are lying, i tell you this world never stopped you from flying.”

All my life has been a struggle to know, what to hold on and what to let go, but still, i end up sitting in the corner of the room with a flickering candle, whimpering, naked, shuddering, lost.

My god! this love it will make a fool out of us all.

So, what ruined you? -hope.

There is a wild in you which thrives in places and on days, when, even the sun in you couldn’t survive.

Hope has never looked the same twice. Pain has never looked the same twice. Love has never looked the same twice.

I remember my mother whispering me every night, if you don’t hold that little light inside you, the universe will let go off the hold of you.

Isn’t this loneliness a strange poetry? you want everyone to read, but you are never willing to write it down.

I will feel whatever the fuck I want to feel.

And nothing that will be touched, even with the tiniest of love, shall continue to live the same.

We are what this world refuse to carry. So we carry ourselves so we carry ourselves so we carry ourselves.

And that is how time heals, not by erasing but by blurring all the memories.

I am not home for somebody else’s trauma.

Too much of what I write takes me back to you.

Even if you look for peace in the places you won the war, you will not find any.

I am trying to talk about love without biting my tongue.

Whatever I feel is not a choice, but dwelling on it is, so I stand up and walk and walk and walk a w a y.

If drowning taught me how to swim, this fall will teach me how to fall.

Earth is a place where we learn to fly in human form. We all gather here in the miraculous place where a tiny seed grows a flower with its own smell or a tree that casts shade onto the land of people.

You were a lost boy the summer you tried teaching me how to fly.

There are so many pieces of souls flying above us and obscuring the sky that the sunrays can barely reach the Earth.

If you want to fly, You have to give up the things that weigh you down.

Even with broken wings, she dares to fly. And even with a broken heart, she dares to love.

How will we learn to fly if we never allow ourselves to fall?

Autumn leaves don’t fall, they fly.