After the Rose had shattered like glass painting the fragility of a gift untouched his body begins to drown in dirt and his feathers embrace the roots his heart hath given to the colder winds and his eyes kept open to see the dark its beak still open for its last note still hung in the air of glum and awe but from a distance she heard the song unfinished the angel who hears his sigh she descends from duty to null this darkness from one winged angel to another she kisses him from divine intention she holds in her lips the elixir of hope for one touch of love and whisper of hope and the nightingale sings again.
love is all that matters and love always finds away
My father is a ****** sky of my eyes. And I may wrap the war with a sheet of pain. But my silence has a letter for the world. ,, Peace is a tear of God, where someone keep a dream,, Has Chakhalyan
