Snow

Snow by Sleeping at Last

The branches have traded their leaves for white sleeves
All warm-blooded creatures make ghosts as they breathe
Scarves are wrapped tightly like gifts under trees
Christmas lights tangle in knots annually

Our families huddle closely
Betting warmth against the cold
But our bruises seem to surface
Like mud beneath the snow

So we sing carols softly, as sweet as we know 
A prayer that our burdens will lift as we go
Like young love still waiting under mistletoe
We'll welcome december with tireless hopeLet our bells keep on ringing
Making angels in the snow
May the melody disarm us
When the cracks begin to show
Like the petals in our pockets
May we remember who we are
Unconditionally cared for
By those who share our broken hearts
The table is set and our glasses are full
Though pieces go missing, may we still feel whole
We'll build new traditions in place of the old
'cause life without revision will silence our souls
So let the bells keep on ringing
Making angels in the snow
May the melody surround us
When the cracks begin to show
Like the petals in our pockets
May we remember who we are
Unconditionally cared for
By those who share our broken hearts
As gentle as feathers, the snow piles high
Our world gets rewritten and retraced every time
Like fresh plates and clean slates, our future is white
New year's resolutions will reset tonight

~*~*~*~*~

Click to Listen

This is one of many of my favorite Christmas song <3 It's so calming and beautiful. later, I will post a video of me dancing to this. The style will either be Jazz or Lyrical.

I am not plain. 

I will not stay inside the box for your sake. 

I will not hold back my power just because you cannot do what I can. 

I see now, your true colors.

I see now what is hidden under your skin. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

I have had a lot of things on my mind lately. There are a lot of hard decisions to make. It won't be easy but in the end it will pay off. I am ready to move on and leave things behind. 

Pretending to Work in English Class

Words words words I am writing words
I am writing words for the sake of writing words
I am writing words because I must write words
I must I must I must write words
Words words words must write words
Busy must look busy busy
Busy as a bee
Busy writing words
And now
And now I am finished
I am finished writing words
I am no longer busy
No more words
Goodbye

"To be great is to be misunderstood." -Emerson

"Why can't you just act like a normal person?"

My dad is overly preoccupied with normality. He thinks that everyone in the world should look and act the same way, his way, and that whatever does not fit into his philosophy is wrong in some fashion.

There is nothing wrong with being different. To break away from confirmity is to be unique, creative, groundbreaking, and beautiful. Nothing of great importance has ever been accomplished by keeping your head down and blending in. You must be bold, openminded, and free. After all, someone has to be.

What can I say?

"You say you love the rain, but you use an umbrella to walk under it. You say you love the sun, but you seek shade when it’s shining. You say you love the wind, but when it comes you close your window. So that’s why I’m scared when you say you love me."

-Bob Marley

"I thought I was living a fairytale, but it’s time I grew up and close this stupid book."

Sometimes...

Sometimes it breaks your heart to remember what was. But sometimes you just have to remember, his touch, his kiss, his smile… but, most of all, the sound of his voice when he whispered your name and he said… “I love you.” Who knew then, that one day he’d leave you, and you’d hope and pray that some day you could forget those most cherished of all things.

-Alicia Brooks Lackey

"An empty room can be so loud…

Especially when it still echos your name…"

"…stony limits cannot hold love out,

And what love can do, that dares love attempt."

-Romeo & Juliet

-Thorn♥

Upon A Spider Catching A Fly

In this poem by Edward Taylor, a puritan in the 1600's, he talks about sinners and saved people. He represents the devil as a spider that spins alluring, intricate webs that trap petty sinners in a life of torment and pain. He states that he carefully lets the wasp, the saved one, escape that way the saved one will not ruin his perfect web. Furthermore, the fly caught by his leg, who is barely into the web of lies from the spider, is killed quickly to prevent his escape. He tells us that the spider (the devil) wants to entrap all of the human race, all of Adam and Eve's offspring, and lead them into the magnificent swirls of his web. The only one who can save them is God, and if you repent, he can save you. I find this poem very beautiful and it really spoke to me even though I'm not very religious. I hope you enjoy it as well!

Upon a Spider Catching a Fly

BY EDWARD TAYLOR

Thou sorrow, venom Elfe

Is this thy play,

To spin a web out of thyselfe

To Catch a Fly?

For Why?

I saw a pettish wasp

Fall foule therein:

Whom yet thy Whorle pins did not clasp

Lest he should fling

His sting.

But as affraid, remote

Didst stand hereat,

And with thy little fingers stroke

And gently tap

His back.

Thus gently him didst treate

Lest he should pet,

And in a froppish, aspish heate

Should greatly fret

Thy net.

Whereas the silly Fly

Caught by its leg

Thou by the throate tookst hastily

And 'hinde the head

Bite Dead.

This goes to pot, that not

Nature doth call.

Strive not above what strength hath got,

Lest in the brawle

Thou fall.

This Frey seems thus to us

Hells Spider gets

His intrails spun to whip Cords thus

And wove to nets

And sets.

To tangle Adams race

In's stratigems

To their Destructions, spoil'd, made base

By venom things,

Damn'd Sins.

But mighty, Gracious Lord

Communicate

Thy Grace to breake the Cord, afford

Us Glorys Gate

And State.

We'l Nightingaile sing like

When pearcht on high

In Glories Cage, thy glory, bright,

And thankfully,

For joy.

"Fighting the monsters within, killing them with love."

-2012; Me

-Thorn ♥

I keep my eyes closed as I concentrate on the energy around me, feeling my body rise off the ground. The wind blows my hair and clothes, but I remain steady, slowly gaining height. Finally I stop, held in place, and my eyes fly open. I am above the trees now. It is a cloudless night, and the moon gives enough light that I can spot the edge of the forest without much difficulty. I check my phone. He hasn't replied yet. Making sure to keep my concentration, I put the phone away and set my sights on civilization. I lean forward slightly, focusing my energy, and begin making my way off into the night.

I did it, I tell him. I flew.

The Brain - Is Wider Than The Sky - Emily Dickinson

The Brain—is wider than the Sky—

For—put them side by side—

The one the other will contain

With ease—and You—beside—

The Brain is deeper than the sea—

For—hold them—Blue to Blue—

The one the other will absorb—

As Sponges—Buckets—do—

The Brain is just the weight of God—

For—Heft them—Pound for Pound—

And they will differ—if they do—

As Syllable from Sound— 

Emily Dickinson

* I came across this as I was doing my CP English Homework. It's a great poem and I plan on posting more of her works on here.

Hypocrites

Satisfaction

"Everything will be alright in the end, and if everything is not alright, then it is not yet the end."

I just watched The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. If you've not seen it already, I highly recommend that you do so.

The movie really made me look at how short and beautiful life is, and how every second should be appreciated. Joy can be found anywhere, if only one remembers to look.

Also, old people are adorable.

FiReWoRk - KaTy PeRrY

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag,

Drifting in the wind

Wanting to start again?

Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin

Like a house of cards,

One blow from caving in?

Do you ever feel already buried deep?
Six feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing
Do you know that there's still a chance for you
'Cause there's a spark in you


You just gotta ignite the light, and let it shine
 Just own the night like the 4th of July


'Cause baby you're a 

~firework~

Come on, show 'em what you're worth

Make 'em go 

~"Oh, oh, oh"~

As you shoot across the 

~sky-y-y~

Baby, you're a 

~firework~

Come on, let your colors burst

Make 'em go 

~"Oh, oh, oh"~

You're gonna leave 'em all in 

~"awe, awe, awe"~


You don't have to feel like a wasted space
You're original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane comes a rainbow


Maybe your reason why all the doors are closed
So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road
Like a lightning bolt, your heart will glow
And when it's time, you'll know


You just gotta ignite the light, and let it shine
Just own the night like the 4th of July


'Cause baby you're a 

~firework~

Come on, show 'em what you're worth

Make 'em go 

~"Oh, oh, oh"~

As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby, you're a 

~firework~

Come on, let your colors burst

Make 'em go 

~"Oh, Oh, Oh"~

You're gonna leave 'em all in 

~"awe, awe, awe"~

~Boom, boom, boom~

Even brighter than the 

~moon, moon, moon~

It's always been inside of 

~you, you, you~

And now it's time to let it 

~through-ough-ough~


'Cause baby you're a 

~firework~

Come on, show 'em what you're worth

Make 'em go 

~"Oh, Oh, Oh"~

As you shoot across the 

~sky-y-y~

Baby, you're a 

~firework~

Come on, let your colors burst

Make 'em go 

~"Oh, Oh, Oh"~

You're gonna leave 'em all in 

~"awe, awe, awe"~

~Boom, boom, boom~

Even brighter than the 

~moon, moon, moon~

~Boom, boom, boom~

Even brighter than the 

~moon, moon, moon~

So this, this is it, then?
After everything we had? All we've been through?
After everything you told me... What happened to forever? I guess they really were just empty words.
I trusted you. I would have stayed with you forever, given my life to you. And you, you throw it all away, just like that?
I gave you everything. Everything I am, it's yours. Take my heart and burn it. It isn't worth anything to me now.
I love you. I love you more than I thought I could ever love. And I hate you for it.
So go. Leave. Now, before I say anything else I'll regret. Just let me say this: I will never love another soul as I have yours, but you, you'll never know that love again.

Repeated Fall Back To Earth

by Kiarra Weathersby

At first,

I'm taken away.

Fantasizing, dreaming,

You're sweet words seducing me

Into a world of Forever

Into a world I thought never existed.

Poof. 

The seams of the cloud ripped so quickly

All I can do is watch and fall

You're sweet words taste like venom

The world Forever in a distant far away land

Your words clouded my brain 

So sweet, so charming, so hypnotizing.

Words blinding my eyes

What a fool, no surprise.

That Voice

This poem doesn't have anything really to do with me personally, but its beautiful.

Thoughtful Mind "Seducing me into submission"

That Voice

It's the voice only I can hear
The one that calls and screams
So many horrible things
Over taking my logic and reason.
It tells me to stop...
Seducing me into submission
It tells me to stop...
To just quit now
There are no reasons to continue
No reasons to continue
No reasons to try.
I have nothing.

This voice lies to me
Telling me I am worthless and unloved
The voice tells me to stop...
So I do.
Just for a second.
I quit.
I test it
Wonder how bad it could really be
To just stop...
To simply give in
And to never again
Breathe.

“Sing me to sleep… I’ll see you in my dreams”

-All Time Low; "Lullabies"

-Thorn ♥

Thistled Spring by Horse Feathers

An old love of mine to wed the worst man she finds.

A blossom that's bloomed, 

in a house that's a tomb, 

trapped in the rhododendron fumes.

Bit by the Spring, 

Hurt by the thing, 

Plagued by the memories that it brings.

No peace in the miles, 

there's word of the coming of a child.

The broke can still break, 

oh, 

what time can take, 

somewhere in the rules lies the stakes.

Bit by the Spring, 

Hurt by the thing, Plagued by the memories that it brings.

link --->

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDwNmxSpfTs

:) I hope that you enjoy this peaceful song as much I did

~

Bride to be, my only friend, is leaving me, in a Spring with no end.

Bride to be, my only friend.

Hope by Late Night Alumni

Can there be another way?

I look around to find another day

Hurt eyes are hard to see through eternity

Hold on, knowing rain is here

But we gotta believe it won't last, keep on hoping

I know it's hard but we have to believe it will pass

Since this time it's hard to share

I won't be here, you won't be over there

Only love can ever take

You alone can find a way

Hold on, knowing rain is here

But we gotta believe it won't last, keep on hoping

I know it's hard but we have to believe it will pass

There is hope, there is hope

There is hope, there is hope

Hold on, knowing rain is here

But we gotta believe it won't last, keep on hoping

I know it's hard but we have to believe it will pass

There is hope, there is hope

There is hope, there is hope

Hold on, knowing rain is here

But we gotta believe it won't last, keep on hoping

I know it's hard but we have to believe it will pass

Click the link to listen

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F9XDkQbo8Fk

 

Enjoy~ 

My Glorious Monster

I wrote this myself, on October 26, 2012 and I decided to share it with you. Enjoy!

Monster, Monster
Who am I to say no?
Dying yet unbreakable
This pain I'll never show
The beast is hidden, for now
I'm lost under the turmoil that it's effects have left
Hallelujah, I'm saved for the night
But maybe not...
It creeps upon me, winding its tempting fingers around my neck
Can I resist?
It's arousing, alluring, perfection.
Insanity
I'm corrupted
A graceful creature that has been bent and broken beyond repair
I love it...
I hate it...
But which do I feel more? The love of it... or the hate?
No matter, it takes a hold of me either way.
I'm lost,
In its touch, in its grasp
In its chains, in an eternal cell
Can I ever escape?
Not one ounce wasted, I let the monster take over
The monster changed me,
A creature of the night, trapped in the day
How should I feel?
Broken? Confused? Alone?
I never felt alone with the monster...
I felt better with the monster,
Faster, stronger, more alive
I wasn't the cold, lifeless creature anymore
I was reconstructed, I had life breathed into me once again
The monster reclaimed what was sullen and lost
I took all my pain out on the monster, and it was always there for me
Ounce by ounce it ate away my anguish.
Once fatigued, the monster had had its fill of a lifetime
That was the first time the monster gripped me so tightly.
I never knew it loved me so... until it wouldn't let go.
I questioned,
How can I breathe with this tight hold on me?
But never got an answer, so I held onto the beast that captivated me.
Never once did I wonder,
How can I continue to function?
I prolonged its effects, wanting more of the creature
And it eagerly gave me what I wanted.
I was drawn to it, it seduced me,
And I was hypnotized to come back
For more and more and more...
It roused me early, shook my cradle, let me out of my cage
It hated me by the afternoon, I fought it, and was shut into the darkness once again
I was redeemed by the night, absorbed in the beast, distracted from remembering life without the monster.
The monster made life seem abstract and unimportant
Making me stray from everything I once knew
Torturing me until I only needed the monster.
Soon I was drowning in the monster, sinking low...
Far too low to ever get out of.
I was hooked.
It devoured my fears, then set them on me when I was least expectant
It consumed my troubles, then added onto my plate until I toppled over
I felt as if soon I would be swallowed up myself.
But I was too bewitched to let it go...
I clung to the monster the best I could
Until it threw me off the ledge
In fact, maybe I jumped
I had finally fallen from grace
But it was over
My wager with the monster was done.
Once again, I was a graceful creature that was bent and broken beyond repair...

 © MissHannahfyi 2012 Wattpad.com "My Glorious Monster"

-Thorn ♥

Hearts That Long To Break And Bleed

My friend likes to call my boyfriend the "Devil in my head" so I decided to tease her by looking up poems about bad habits seducing good people. This isn't necessarily what I had originally looked for, but I liked it. It talks about a woman who seduces men as a game, stealing their hearts for her own benefit, breaking the man, leaving him with nothing more to want. But then, if you look closer, you see that the woman is actually the heartbroken one, she is the empty soul that reaches to touch what is not there. She is the one who lost the game originally, forever suffering because she was left heartless, desperately trying to fill the void where her heart once was. It's a beautiful poem. Kudos to the author, Grace Minasian, she's amazing in my book.

Grace Minasian; "Seducing The Living Dead Just For Laughs"

The hearts that long to break and bleed.

I draw them in.
The desperate stare, the neurotic breathe.
These are the ones who have realized they clutch at nothingness.

I let them hold my gaze and play pretend.
They long for my counterfeit innocence
And order me to caress the emptiness and kiss their hollow words.

I play the game because I have nowhere else to go tonight.
I play the game just because I can.
How satisfying it is to see the living are not alive.

My mask lasts only up until the release
And then my true identity is revealed in gusto:
Hello!  I am the unlovable and unwanted.

Liberate the pained clenched cheeks from forced smiles
And let go.
It doesn’t matter anyway, now that you understand my place.

They tell me how beautiful she was,
How life is a lie,
And that they are lost in bleakness.

I am amused by their pathetic existence.
I ache to break their cushioned hearts into a million pieces
So they can transform into the true suffering human.

I may be the created mistake that limps from place to place
seducing the living dead just for laughs.
But I suffer beautifully.

I am able to feel heartbreaking pain.
And while they long to break and bleed and escape cascading nothingness,
I live a life more alive then them all.

“What a shame we all became such fragile & broken things…” 

-Unknown

-Thorn ♥

Running on empty
I really need you here with me
If I could
Hold you, then everything would be
Alright again, for a moment, finally
But then we're right back to the way that we're supposed to be
And I just can't seem to carry on like this
Going back and forth, up and down like this
I think that I should leave, but everytime we kiss
I lose myself, lost in you, and think of all the things we'd miss
So here I stay, couldn't bring myself to go
But just know
I can't take much more of this

You Can Be The One - by Late Night Alumni

Nobody wants to be alone.

The heart beats happy when it has a place.

And if it doesn't have a home

It can come into my space. 

So you can be the one I love. 

I can be the one you long for. 

You can be the one I want... want.

And you can be the one I love. 

This could be our world wide open. 

You can be the one I want... want. 

When you've fallen for someone

But that someone doesn't feel the same.

But before you come undone

You can call out my name.

So you can be the one I love. 

I can be the one you long for. 

You can be the one I want... want.

And you can be the one I love. 

This could be our world wide open. 

You can be the one I want... want.

(So you can be the one... one one one

I can be the one... one one one

So you can be the one... one one one

I can be the one... one one one)

So you can be the one I love. 

I can be the one you long for. 

You can be the one I want... want.

And you can be the one I love. 

This could be our world wide open. 

You can be the one I want... want.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This is one of my favorite songs by Late Night Alumni.  

Click on the funny emoticon to listen 

ヽ｜๑´ω`๑｜ノ

Aren't they fabulous?

My cat... is quite an interesting creature..

My cat is a pretty interesting chick. Ever since I can remember she has either slept in my hair or at my side. She's pretty old, I suppose, but I still claim she is my baby as all mothers do! Everyone claims she's fat, but she's just fluffy... really fluffy... and by really fluffy... I mean... she's twenty pounds of fluffy... Her name is Sabrina, she's black and white with an amazingly epic milk mustache, and her hobbies include staring at me from afar, stalking me when I use the bathroom, and coming out of nowhere at unexpected times. She especially loves scaring the crap out of me... For example, I was intently watching a scary movie, scooting closer to the screen every time the main character turned a corner, and out of no where my cat jumped onto the couch, sending me, arms flailing, eyes wide, and in desperation, onto the floor, kicking and screaming at absolutely nothing. Of course, she continued with her intention of casually laying down on the couch and staring at me like I had gone absolutely crazy as I stared at her in absolute terror.

My cat glares at me as if I’ve done something wrong.. I automatically feel guilty and feed her AGAIN for the sixth time today…

I hate it when my cat finds her way into the bathroom and stares at me as I pee… It’s really awkward…

-Thorn ♥

The Death of a Moth

In school, my class was assigned to analyze and write notes on the deeper meanings behind this essay by Virginia Woolf. Usually, I hate the tedious tasks of reading, annotating, etc. when it comes to these essays, but I particularly liked this essay and found that it related to me in certain ways. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

VIRGINIA WOOLF

The Death of the Moth (1942)

Virginia Woolf (1882–1941) exposed the difficulties of being a woman writer in her essay “A Room of One’s Own.” Her novels experimented with time and narrative, and she is considered a master of the stream-of-consciousness technique. Woolf battled mental illnesses throughout her life, and eventually committed suicide by drowning herself in 1941, a year before this essay was published. As you read, examine the ways she presents images of life and death.

Death of a Moth

Moths that fly by day are not properly to be called moths; they do not excite that pleasant sense of dark autumn nights and ivy–blossom which the commonest yellow–underwing asleep in the shadow of the curtain never fails to rouse in us. They are hybrid creatures, neither gay like butterflies nor sombre like their own species. Nevertheless the present specimen, with his narrow hay–coloured wings, fringed with a tassel of the same colour, seemed to be content with life. It was a pleasant morning, mid–September, mild, benignant, yet with a keener breath than that of the summer months. The plough was already scoring the field opposite the window, and where the share had been, the earth was pressed flat and gleamed with moisture. Such vigour came rolling in from the fields and the down beyond that it was difficult to keep the eyes strictly turned upon the book. The rooks too were keeping one of their annual festivities; soaring round the tree tops until it looked as if a vast net with thousands of black knots in it had been cast up into the air; which, after a few moments sank slowly down upon the trees until every twig seemed to have a knot at the end of it. Then, suddenly, the net would be thrown into the air again in a wider circle this time, with the utmost clamour and vociferation, as though to be thrown into the air and settle slowly down upon the tree tops were a tremendously exciting experience.
The same energy which inspired the rooks, the ploughmen, the horses, and even, it seemed, the lean bare–backed downs, sent the moth fluttering from side to side of his square of the window–pane. One could not help watching him. One was, indeed, conscious of a queer feeling of pity for him. The possibilities of pleasure seemed that morning so enormous and so various that to have only a moth’s part in life, and a day moth’s at that, appeared a hard fate, and his zest in enjoying his meagre opportunities to the full, pathetic. He flew vigorously to one corner of his compartment, and, after waiting there a second, flew across to the other. What remained for him but to fly to a third corner and then to a fourth? That was all he could do, in spite of the size of the downs, the width of the sky, the far–off smoke of houses, and the romantic voice, now and then, of a steamer out at sea. What he could do he did. Watching him, it seemed as if a fibre, very thin but pure, of the enormous energy of the world had been thrust into his frail and diminutive body. As often as he crossed the pane, I could fancy that a thread of vital light became visible. He was little or nothing but life.
Yet, because he was so small, and so simple a form of the energy that was rolling in at the open window and driving its way through so many narrow and intricate corridors in my own brain and in those of other human beings, there was something marvellous as well as pathetic about him. It was as if someone had taken a tiny bead of pure life and decking it as lightly as possible with down and feathers, had set it dancing and zig–zagging to show us the true nature of life. Thus displayed one could not get over the strangeness of it. One is apt to forget all about life, seeing it humped and bossed and garnished and cumbered so that it has to move with the greatest circumspection and dignity. Again, the thought of all that life might have been had he been born in any other shape caused one to view his simple activities with a kind of pity.
After a time, tired by his dancing apparently, he settled on the window ledge in the sun, and, the queer spectacle being at an end, I forgot about him. Then, looking up, my eye was caught by him. He was trying to resume his dancing, but seemed either so stiff or so awkward that he could only flutter to the bottom of the window–pane; and when he tried to fly across it he failed. Being intent on other matters I watched these futile attempts for a time without thinking, unconsciously waiting for him to resume his flight, as one waits for a machine, that has stopped momentarily, to start again without considering the reason of its failure. After perhaps a seventh attempt he slipped from the wooden ledge and fell, fluttering his wings, on to his back on the window sill. The helplessness of his attitude roused me. It flashed upon me that he was in difficulties; he could no longer raise himself; his legs struggled vainly. But, as I stretched out a pencil, meaning to help him to right himself, it came over me that the failure and awkwardness were the approach of death. I laid the pencil down again.
The legs agitated themselves once more. I looked as if for the enemy against which he struggled. I looked out of doors. What had happened there? Presumably it was midday, and work in the fields had stopped. Stillness and quiet had replaced the previous animation. The birds had taken themselves off to feed in the brooks. The horses stood still. Yet the power was there all the same, massed outside indifferent, impersonal, not attending to anything in particular. Somehow it was opposed to the little hay–coloured moth. It was useless to try to do anything. One could only watch the extraordinary efforts made by those tiny legs against an oncoming doom which could, had it chosen, have submerged an entire city, not merely a city, but masses of human beings; nothing, I knew, had any chance against death. Nevertheless after a pause of exhaustion the legs fluttered again. It was superb this last protest, and so frantic that he succeeded at last in righting himself. One’s sympathies, of course, were all on the side of life. Also, when there was nobody to care or to know, this gigantic effort on the part of an insignificant little moth, against a power of such magnitude, to retain what no one else valued or desired to keep, moved one strangely. Again, somehow, one saw life, a pure bead. I lifted the pencil again, useless though I knew it to be. But even as I did so, the unmistakable tokens of death showed themselves. The body relaxed, and instantly grew stiff. The struggle was over. The insignificant little creature now knew death. As I looked at the dead moth, this minute wayside triumph of so great a force over so mean an antagonist filled me with wonder. Just as life had been strange a few minutes before, so death was now as strange. The moth having righted himself now lay most decently and uncomplainingly composed. O yes, he seemed to say, death is stronger than I am.



-Thorn ♥

“It’s weird… you know the end of something great is coming, but you want to hold on… just for one more second… just so it can hurt a little more.”

-Unknown