Green was the soft lush floor that cushions the feet.
Green was leaves that rustled in the warm breeze.
Green was the waves of the roaring ocean.
All of which were beckoning me home.

Only with clear leaves can we see the sky through the trees.

My dreams stretch as far as the horizon.
But what is beyond that
I do not know.
I must reach further
Beyond the mountains
To see what lays
Beyond the horizon.
Do my dreams stop here?
Or is there more depth to them
Than I realize?

Everything was on fire. The bright red-orange flames danced about lapping at his legs and arms but didn’t burn. Black smoke swirled around him, beckoning him to breathe in letting it fill up his lungs. There was screaming in the distance but he couldn’t make out the words. The flames had him hypnotized by their beautiful dance

If home is where the heart is, then by that definition, I have no home. For I have lost it in a sea of self-hatred that was rained upon me by the words of others until I drowned in them and made them my own

People pave over their path and line them with billboards telling others it’s the only path of life. I’ve stepped off the cold pavement and wondered past the billboards. I have found moss warmed by the sun under my feet and flowers lining either side

Whoever told you time heals wounds, they were lying. Time doesn't heal wounds. Time just adds things to them. Covering them up. They are still there. The wounds remain no matter how many distractions Time adds. No matter how many things Time has piled over a wound it can take only one thing for all those coverups to dissipate. Time only distracts you from your wounds. You must heal your wounds. Because in the end there is only you. Time can’t heal you. You have to heal yourself