And then the blood got mixed up with the ink
And the words became splatters on the paper
My pain became art
And my tears were used to water the flowers of the garden of your amusement, that garden which only exists to please you, that garden that, even if filled with the most beautiful, colourful, and majestic flowers, they're also the most poisonous, their thorns digging into my skin and filling me with their venom
And then the poison turned into false hopes and love
And the love flowed through me, filling me up in a way I had never felt before
And then the love and dreams became blood.
YOU ARE READING
My Apology
Non-FictionWhy even try to understand what's going on inside our heads? The mind is a tricky place where you can find so much yet understand so little. Doubts, worries, scenarios and more are flowing throught it like a boat in a harsh ocean wave, yet, why do...
