If a sunset's too beautiful somewhere, it means that place is polluted.

You see, whenever I look at you, you're the most beautiful sunset the world could offer. How the light shining from your irises reflect the way a sunset blends its hues. How your smile captures the light of the sun, slowly fading, but will never die. Then how awe dumbstrucks me in the most amazing way. You're magical, in the most realistic, possible way.

But I guess you're polluted.

From the hurt, the lies, your past, the demons stuck inside that head of yours, the anxiety, everything. You conjured every possible demon inside of you and turned them into the most beautiful hues of the most beautiful sunset of the most polluted place on earth. You were made of broken pieces and shards of pain but it still looks like you were made to be a god.

You really are ******* magical. You're the beautiful ending of the most tragic beginning.