Still I think of an old habit, that I had once made to inhabit, it developed quick as a rabbit.
                              With how fast the crimson would flood, with mountain of tissues soaked in blood, as my body is tossed in the mud.
                                       In all honesty I still miss the rush, the gush,
                                                  That silent shush.
        But I'll keep my word,
Though i might be a flightless bird,
    I can still be beautiful even with the scars, is that so absurd?

You can attempt to live your whole life perfectly, try your best and show commitment in everything you're passionate about, spend years planning your future and setting up your life.
But it's really scary to know everything you ever strived for can be lost in one unfortunate day.
Just one day is all it takes.

You were the purest savoir from that forgotten night, the saddest sight, is that of fractured light.