Strength from pain. Writings of passion now lost. Shared all the same.
The wind whips through your hair, causing it to float outwards around your head, a radiant halo-like crown…
My clenched fist slams soundlessly against the smooth barrier. Over and over.
A key part of my facade is the pretense that I cannot fear, that nothing scares me. And this is an important cornerstone indeed…
Strength, hate, love, passion and pain. No place here.
True nothing. Not something, but the absence of everything.
The empty page, awaiting someone to bleed their heart’s words upon it.