Walking Into Black - Euphedra Aster - Wattpad

Walking Into Black

Reads 2,095
Votes 20
Parts 56
Time 1h 27m

Reads 2,095
Votes 20
Parts 56
Time 1h 27m

beauty darkness deepemotions depression equality evil fear hate love pain peace poems poetry right soul suicidal suicide understanding unity wars

Don't fear death.  It does nothing for you.  Death is at every turn; the challenge is if you choose to accept it or not.  
Don't fear pain.  Pain is how you learn.  Pain is the side-effect of life.  If you live life fearing getting hurt...can you truly live life fully?
I've felt pain.  I've accepted death.  I've lived, I've learned, I've drowned a few times.  If all I have to show for it is small bundles of letters and words...so be it.  That's more than I could have ever hoped for.  Everything that means anything to me are just words.  You can put anything into words.  Anything and everything.
You can put death into words.
You can put pain into words.
You can put fear into words.
And I have.  And you can read them, if you want.  You can learn from them; learn to stop fearing, learn to stop living in the future, behind your mask.  But only if you care enough to listen.
I speak loud and clear, yet nobody can hear me.  I am not hidden, yet nobody can find me.  If they even try.All Rights Reserved

beauty darkness deepemotions depression equality evil fear hate love pain peace poems poetry right soul suicidal suicide understanding unity wars

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A Strange Kind of Beautiful by -taraxacum-

Trapped in pages are words I've never spoken. An overwhelming happiness, grief, and love. A walking poem and the hidden poet. To admire from afar and to be loved silently. Surrender my sorrows and bleed on paper and since then I kept this story sacred. A reminder how I made it. A chapter where I stumbled, how crushed and crumbled but still survived. Only with a pen and a heart to mend. I lived.

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Slide 1 of 10

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A Strange Kind of Beautiful

Trapped in pages are words I've never spoken. An overwhelming happiness, grief, and love. A walking poem and the hidden poet. To admire from afar and to be loved silently. Surrender my sorrows and bleed on paper and since then I kept this story sacred. A reminder how I made it. A chapter where I stumbled, how crushed and crumbled but still survived. Only with a pen and a heart to mend. I lived.