Creation of my brain and heart

Stained by past

Repainting my nightmares,
was like decorating traumas with ink.

I'll manage to float now,
but eventually, I'll sink.

Because the paint will melt one day,
with the fire of fears avoided by my heart.

It's there but forbidden by my hopes,
but it'll take only one spark to again start.

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I hope the nightmares that are your reality will one day sucked by blackhole, and you never had to deal fear of sinking into it again.