ㅤcrayon

the stars are free spirits. you can cry to them like they're a shoulder to lean on. they feel so close even if they're so far. unlike with other people. 

| mornings, coffee, and spirits |
          
          he gently rubbed his fingers on the smooth coffee table. he looks outside as the sun showers warmth to their city to grant the fair share that he owes every single place in the world. 
          
          he breathed a long sigh, as his eyes drift from person to person. somehow, he felt that he'd already fit in. at the same time he didn't.
          
          
          his cold heart bathes again in the daily comfort of the sun. his cold heart peacefully sings its beat when the moon and the stars lay a soft blanket in the night sky.
          
          he had asked too many questions and became desperate for immediate answers. he wondered about why the world could be this ironic that no one can decipher the riddles she had left. 
          
          
          his eyes drift like a traveler. restless. careless. 
          
          
          he feeds his empty soul by the scenes of every other person who just manages to exist nonchalantly. every flame that screams bile at the top of their lungs, composing hymns of hatred that you cannot even see where did this tree grew. he feeds his soul, because he knows that even if he tries, no one would understand.
          
          
          no one will. they just know how it feels like. they pretend to know everything about it.
          
          
          the waitress served him a cup of coffee. she was too occupied that she did not even care to greet a simple 'good morning' to brighten up a dull color of a day. she was too busy working hard. 
          
          
          the world is too busy. and he's here, sitting with a blank mind.
          
          the sun perhaps gave up hopes on him. but he continues to exist as a restless soul of empty feelings.
          
          the coffee tastes bitter. hmm, i wonder when he will get used to it?
          
          g o l d i i b l o x

pink is like being vulnerable in an ironically calming way to people's eyes. pink is when you're just trying to hide all the exhaustion, all the sad smiles but you're on the verge of exposing them outside. the hard thing is that you can't. you don't want to do that because you're just that weak for a human being is what you think of yourself. 
          
          so you hide it with pink. a soft blanket of neutral emotions. 
          
          
          with pink, people would think that it's neat and safe. although, behind it is a night where you're drowning in scorching red flames.

h e  l l  o  what up, mother earth ( ・◇・)？

Thanks voting on my book

hope you're having a good day~
          if not, make yourself smile. 
          
          The spirit is still alive

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