Sunday, August 14, 2011

A mess


You rare escapist, dwell mind of mine. Blooming beautifully in this curl world wouldn't do it anymore.. Illusion, dreams are hunting me down. I used to spread the tendency of love and beauty of the world with my smile. But then sometimes I feel so empty from inside. I do cry as much as I smile. I feel human collar bones of air. I'm a mess, lost and you wouldn't find me until I find my ownself.

1 comment:

  1. I won't find myself. Not in a million years. Live.

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