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Treasures meant to be cherished;

Genuinity is greatly wished.

However nothing is perfect;

Imperfections make it correct.

Becoming who you are not;

Is just a result of what-not.

Coming to terms on such;

Doing everything much.

I hope and pray one day;

I can see and pave my own way.

I trust and pray everything will settle;

I hope and wish to be comforted a little.

i’m tired. but not just “didn’t sleep” tired. soul tired. bone tired. like my body keeps going but nothing inside knows why.

It is what it is

“When the rich make war, it’s the poor that die.”

— Jean-Paul Sartre, The Devil and the Good Lord

Truest at it's finest.

"I hear you whisper underneath your breath

I hear your SOS, your SOS"

The exact feels when all reasons for fighting are slowly fading. When it became a one man March, there You brought and gave me him.

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