This much i know is true.

The heart is a traitor. Judas covered in blood, Judas without remorse. It slips through logic and reason like an assassin in the night. The heart wants what the heart wants. That is all.

To be beautiful is to endure pain. To be broken and bleeding and still stand up. Shattered glass is far more lovely than a perfect pane.

The stars keep shining, people keep dying and we have the audacity to think we matter. That’s humanity for you.

This much i know is true.

My head is a library.

A library in chaos; on fire, flooded, being built. I run through the aisles, on and on; looking for the answers. So certain that  it’s there, just look closer. See what’s in front of you.

All this information and what does it matter? Life leaves scars on us all.

One for you, two for pain, three for courage. Perhaps the secret is hidden everywhere. A moving time-bomb.

Tick tock,

I breathe butterflies and ashes. There is a fire inside me. It keeps me warm. It’s eating me alive.

I open my mouth to say help me, I’m sorry, I love you but all that comes out are daggers and stones.

I try, I do. But tell me how to survive when there’s nothing inside me, tell me how to live when I’m an anomaly, an aberration. Tell me how the unwanted survive.

The library is burning.

The heart beats on.

The air is turning liquid. We’re breathing water.

The butterflies are dying.

Ashes, ashes we all fall down.

I have the stars in my hands, the blades, the holy grail.

See this is how the steam escapes. This is how the gunpowder is thrown out. This is where the lies live; coiled like snakes, comforting and  constricting. This is where the truth hides.

The doors are open. Will you go through or will you stand in the flames and call it absolution? Stupidity. This is it. The time has come. Do or die.

Sweetheart it’ll be okay. It’s just a little blood. Just a little. It’s raining blood, hot and sticky. Blood like  water, blood like a solution.

It doesn’t matter.

Shut the fuck up. Don’t be a coward.

 

Blood, sweat and tears.

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