Salem

I held it so close that it shattered in my hands, leaving little cuts. I didn't mind, it was for love. Right?

Why do I love you yet hurt so much because of you?

If only you knew the love I hold for you is like the tears life sheds for death. Knowing they will never be one, life gives death gifts and yet they all shrivel in deaths cold hands.

Delicate like porcelain soldiers.

I wish for peace, but like desert rains it seems like it will never come.

I don't like thinking, it's a dangerous thing for someone like me. When we think, it often becomes too much and it's hard to express because there are so many.

Thoughts tend to creep in and take away from the beauty of life. It steals the joy and wonder of the mind. We are told to just accept it and yet that seems to only make more thoughts. What a cynical cycle.

Those memories are like a gentle painting of pain, showing how you slowly stopped knowing me. And me becoming someone I don't know, so far to the void of my own destruction.