the leaves never get angry to the wind even making them fall
the ground always humble even the rain pouring the water on it







NA.

I love the idea of healing,
But I'm not just suffering from symptoms,
I am the sickness,
Punching myself black and blue,
Refusing to stop until I'm soaking red.
I'm better off suffering from the thing that kills me,
Than cutting away parts of me until useless fragments remain.
Like the captain that goes down with his ship,
I will never see salvation from this point onward.
This disease has seeped into my cells
And now I'm more sickness than human.
If I took away the biggest part of me,
What would I be left with, but emptiness?

The rise and the fall
Of the rose petals in a storm
Left to defend with only thorns
And already more than halfway gone

The scent carries on the wind
Of this Rose, I'm guardian
Guarding what is left
Of a beauty left in the past...

Because although they say true beauty never dies
A rose wasn't built to last

Paralyzed by sadness,
lack of motivation coupled with an unquenchable thirst.
I am sad, yet happy
I am a walking paradox