Initially, I buried my eights graves, but not deep enough because the storm came in and washed them all open. Now, they are back to haunt and push me off this path that I'm rigorously paving.
Honestly, my anxiety builds up each second, and that's okay because it's the only way I get to breathe.

Trust me, it's not easy desiring what you were told not to desire. Indeed, a love like ours is as dangerous as they come.
Although I do not believe in magic, I still believe in prose, second chances, and the beauty in colors.

How can you be so naive, Angel? Can't you see that everything keeps you apart?

If you're trying to decode this note; stop. There's no story here, just rambles.

Underneath every laughter, there's a sad song that plays in rhythm.
“Stay buried, don't come out to play,” I keep whispering in a hoarse voice to the lurking shadows, but some days they override my command.