The glass wall between us,

Write upon it.

Teach me your wants and wishes.

I'll do the same.

As we fill the pane,

Your smile will become obstructed.

The stories will become muddled.

And when we run out of space to write,

We will wait for the barrier to shatter.

Even if the wall never falls,

I will find comfort in the darkness we

Created.

All I have is grown up thoughts now.
I don't see that girl anymore, that child.
That child was never a child.
Just a girl.


In an extremely different world.
The one she used to get away from the confusing pain.
She screamed, sobbed, and stared her way through life.


Knowing how others had pain, so she never complained.


The screaming was to release anger.
The crying was to show her heart.
The staring was to test if others could stare back and find something more within the "innocent happy child".


The girl had something that was magic.
Her kind of magic.


Music played around her, in her head, and everyday to be an escape.
It was never just an escape route, it was a road to feeling happiness.
The happiness she deserved,


That we deserve.


Now, still to this day, the girl listens to music...
Not because of the escape, adrenaline, or odd feeling of emotions;
It's all for the passion and love that she feels.


Music is her safest place,
It's more than a dream or a part of imagination.


It was God's gift to her path, it is the start of her story creation.

I feel like my life is stuck on Caps Lock.

What a disgrace.

All I want is to click Backspace.

I don't want to leave a trace,

Of the footprints in my past.

I just want a smooth life,

Where I can laugh.

Blank Page...

In the evening having inked his feather
He engenders beauty line by line,
Writes a manuscript that joins together
Ice and fire, darkness and sunshine.

He is looking for his lot no longer,
But he strikes the lyre on the stage,
Showing humankind that love is stronger
Than injustice, enmity and rage;

It is more than life and nonexistence,
It can give downhearted people wings,
Neither flow of time nor any distance
Can destroy love’s harp and tear its strings.

He narrates that standards and traditions
Put sometimes a lot of lives at stake,
And that human honor and ambitions
Should exist for other people’s sake.

Every moment of his life he's ready
To amaze his audience and thrill.
Many centuries have passed already,
But he still creates and always will.

The craft of seeing

What could be

Creating

And making  

A possibility