Her soul went from the most beautiful frontal-erected flower, full of love, ambition and passion while spewing vibes that dissolved all evil.
He tempts her day in and out. Surrounding her heart, he lays, laughing, lying, awaiting to never be caught.
She slithers as he lies with no remorse. He grins as her erected flower wilts to gray. He lurks. He waits.
In her weakest moment, he takes her heart and soul.
This is the story of life and death. Shall she succumb? Or fight back for her life?
Lost is not broken. As broken is not being lost.
Lost is not finding your way back. A pit stop. A moment of transition. Being lost is temporary until you find your way back home.
Broken is being torn to pieces. It is being shattered. It is never being able to be who you were yesterday. There is no going back home!
A pit stop cannot fix your broken soul, but taking a needle and thread and patience can slowly bring you back together.
Broken does not mean that we leave all the broken pieces on the ground unless of course you choose to do so.
Being broken means putting yourself together with the support our world offers. It can be breaking in the fresh air. It can be getting out of bed and taking a shower. Being broken will leave a deep scar in your soul, but when all of your pieces are sewn back together, that scar will remind you of the tedious work you put into your soul.
I’d rather be lost. Lost is okay. The lost can be shown the light of life.
Broken is shattered pieces that will take time to heal. But it is okay. It just means that you will come out of your hectic mess much more beauty.
When the devil is lingering around you and it is almost available at all times. When the devil can look you straight in the eye and say “I love you” and you believe it, you my friend are in deep trouble.
Deep, deep trouble.
In the midst of Water Lillies and Fairies, lay a tender heart, her heart, his heart, pumping hearts of life and death….
Breath can stop,
The mind can falter,
Lunacy can fall on
As Water Lillies and Fairies flow through the sparkled night,
oblivious of night skies of death.
Stone sober, she can eminate the liking of his faltered soul, or can she?
Idea-driven is she, punching, screeming vocals of feminist rock, until the last flickering light dims,
Can you go crazy while staying sane? Can we stay sane while going mad? In our bleak world, this is the visual she allows as she rocks those vocals toward every fuck in the world,
Erect, full of laughter, she picks a Water Lilly and hands it to every dead body as she smiles at each living Fairy,
Fairies exist and so does death, Water Lillies breath as do we, life emanates as much as we choose,
Choose well my fair weathered friend…
Picture taken from “fairiesandfantasy.com”