passions were my strong point. every breath lined with a deeper meaning that makes you embrace any emotion including sadness is a blessing.
i can sit and stare at the clouds endlessly. distance myself from human infestation, so i can spend some time alone marvelling the cosmic manifestation.
i read books, conjure up worlds and press pages with fragile paper wings that let me fly in the summer air making me feel as light as a butterfly.
i stay up at nights and end up painting faces of unrecognisable angels and demons that live inside my head. i'm constantly torn between prose and poetry. one lets me live, and the other helps me to get lost.
i am a girl living on wishbones and rusted blood. a girl covered in an ever-glowing soil. a girl toiled with ashes. but i am reborn every time a part of me is scathed. i reappear till i'm completed.
till i'm finite because i was held by strong points:
passions.