Dear Sylphea, I believe this is how you start letters— handwritten ones. My phone and all that crap has been gone for at least 6 weeks as everyone else’s. Would it seem plausible if I told you that I had never written a note and sent it before? Since the technological advancement outbreak and the crazy shit burned our bridges, I’ve been thinking about you. I can only assume your district of office...

Demonstrate the way of the waves in an unknown ocean, it is impossible.

To replicate is to mindlessly observe and copy into a canvas that screams with no meaning, no sound.

If I ask one more time, demonstrate the way of a mountain and every peak that penetrates a dusted white sky, it is still impossible.

You may be the most talented man ever to behold, but are you sincere? Are you knowledgeable...

If a garden of weeds can dull your spark,

Than the flame within is ever so weak.

If a million men who sit in the dark

Can steal your ambition, your goal is presumably bleak.

Infront of all who doubt your ability,

Rearrange your spark to never fail your aspirations.

Remember that there is strength in your fragility.

For it is not others, not god, but you who upholds your dream in a cruel nation.

...

One too many people live a life in sorrow

Tis unfortunate that happiness and joy is not to borrow

It grows within and plants its seed inside, heaven sent.

Blessing the air with peace, a passionate spirit in which is so vibrant.

I, I am made of fairy dust.

Collect the soft drops of rain,

or capsule your tears in jars of pain

The breeze dances with your hair, like soulmates intertwined

Once so ful...

He looks for love in my eyes, not to be shown for him, but to be shown to myself. Because ever since I had left my dream of individual artistry, I hadn’t felt one inch of love for myself compared to the mountain of self hatred I’ve climbed over and over to successfully be his muse. I had once believed that at the peak of said mountain, there would be the greatest monument of love for me to take it...