A Game of Hearts, Souls and Stars
Love is just a belief, right? Something you can switch on and off, a feeling that only the weak can experience, those who can't quite manage to control it.
The ones who can? Well, they're the most damaged with bruised hearts and broken souls who blame the world and its inhabitants.
They have seen themselves torn, shattered and stomped upon fibre by fibre by the very people they trusted. They watched themselves being thrown into an abyss, helpless and alone. And their pieces were flung back at them, as if they were mere dust that deemed worthless.
But every star began as mere dust. Something insignificant that, given time and pressure, grew to shine, through the cracks of walls and pangs of pain, to stand solely bright.
Bruised hearts and broken souls are stars, my dear. They are beings that belong in the wild skies, otherworldly and imperfectly beautiful. They grow to burn brighter than those that ground them and live stronger than they ever did.
They do love if they choose to. A fierce, faithful love that can only be found when you can endure their heat and light. Only when you are worthy of standing before them with your deeds pure and head high. They won't hesitate to burn you, to show you the pain and agony they struggled through until you feel your skin crackle and soul tremble.
Them, they know what love is. A dangerously fickle thing that prances its way through minds. A wicked mischief that cackles at the ashes of what once was.
The weak ones? Oh, they will learn alright. It's their first battle to the cosmos, their first step to learn that love is war and fairness never existed. They will learn how to pick up pieces of themselves with bloodied hands and blurry eyes. They will learn what love is.
All but a beautiful game of hearts, souls and stars.
