𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐅𝐔 .ᐟ 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬

ɪᴀᴄᴜʟᴀɴꜱ ᴅᴇɪᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴍ

❝𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣'𝙩 𝙖𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙, 𝙞 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙, 𝙞 𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙞'𝙢 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪.❞

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꒰ HURLING FLAMES OF DESPONDENCY ꒱

જ⁀➴ life is odd. the unstable painting of existence is a live canvas. it's either emulsioned with scintillating hues that shimmer with the brilliance of twinkling stardust descending from the celestial realms, or it's a mundane sketch of quotidian tints of stygian and ivory. it's monotonous, and passionless; the painting embeds itself so deep into the breath of one's own sentience, it surrounds them, proving futile to repaint the pitch black with a luminous viridescent. it remains the same, it feels haunting and suffocating.

the ever so tottery fate is akin to the bristles of the fragile brush that colors the pale of the canvas belonging to one's existence. kismet is unchanging, and unseen. a life can be illuminating with tones and tinges. specks of amber that gleams so bright, resting still like exorbitant gold. dots of copper, resembling a serene sundown, as one can almost feel the solace tranquility of the zephyr caressing the soft of their corium. flecks of azure, representing utmost elegance, akin to the pulchritudinous of the divine reservoir. yet, just as destiny is obscured, so is the following color that may touch the undyed fragment of the canvas.

the graceful painting could be beaming with merry colors, but it could also be destroyed by the murk of darkness. life changes in unexpected ways, there's no telling what might transpire next. one moment, a human can be the giddiest of the bunch, and the next they could be the most sorrowful of souls. a simple incident can ruin the prepossessing of the glinting hues, nibbling at the colorful shades, until it's nothing but prosaic white and black.

the aerospace weeped for the despondent young girl. the silvery clouds swallowed the sun behind their tenebrous presence, not allowing a segment of the cheerful sun rays to infiltrate through their caliginous. the atmosphere; melancholy, and glum, reflected the minuscule flakes of her shattered heart. the pitter patter of the raindrops felt like needles aiming at her central part with no mercy, a constant reminder that what could've been, will never be again. the aqua of wet beads were being constantly consumed by the soil, with no way of sprouting back out to evince what looked like diminutive crystal gems. they're forever gone from her sight.

[Name] stilled, the leather of her shoes buried deep into the grim of the earthly ground, her head low with gloom radiating off her expression. her margin painted itself in a show of a wide frown, her eyes shadowed with brawny dolorous, the tresses attached to her scalp stuck to her clammy face, feeling like sharp claws digging themselves deep into the sombre of her dermis. she gazed at the mud flowing against the floor filthily, as she desperately ached to sob for what she had once had, and lost. thus, no transparent wetness cascaded down her face no matter how much she yearned for it.

but, just like how the humus gulps down the raindrops that descended from the ashen skies, it grows with what it was offered, bewitching flowerets. it may take decades, but it still sprouts nonetheless. it doesn't stay lifeless.

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© SAELUVR