As the wind blows against the window and its clothing, while today has began toΒ Β turn into tomorrow, a drift the locks of a feather spirals towards the ever moving ground. Troublesome hearts beat spreading venom into every possible vein. Arise is coldness, bitter ends and misplaced love fluttering throughout a thought and twisting to and fro towards its catastrophe.
I literally woke up in the middle of the night and started writing this.