The ideals to your notions of the ‘perfect self’ won’t set you free with your little desires.
They did this to you, for just one good thing.
Today’s the day of Jesus, so a tidbit of his touch in my this epigram. Merry Christmas world!
This is the battle, you fight, they fight but there’s no end to it.
Like a flame, I’ve been seen enough. Now my warmth awaits to be felt, regardless of how badly you’ll be hurt.
Can’t I someday try to conceal these twinges, these flaws, from the self?
All paintings I’ve seen have had my fingerprints. Some swallowed it and some called it the art.
Every stroke of air enters my body so often, as if in a polar region. But I forget that I’m a desert who should know to value every stroke that increases my age…
The fire within can’t be extinguished, for we’ll never stop lying to ourselves, we’ll never accept our real image.
The walls of heart are imprinted with thousands of words, some die out and some stay forever…