TheThree Sheets To The Wind!

Torn between nostalgia for the familiar and the urge for foreign and strange. As often as not homesick most for the places they have never known.
Mistaken they always have been. Lust from love. Wealth from heart. Dignity from pride. Patience from loss. How else standing in this huge world amidst the small shattered souls? They disguise. Just like preying.

Red. Blood. Tears. Rage. Eyes filled with lust for revenge. Like dead carnations intoxicating the purple valley. A life revolving around scarlet ends.

"Something of vengeance I had tasted for the first time; as aromatic wine it seemed, on swallowing, warm and racy: its after-flavour, metallic and corroding, gave me a sensation as if I had been poisoned."

Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre