How Ironic It Is To Have Eyes With Dead Soul, When You Can See The Beauty Around You But Can't Feel It,

How ironic it is to have eyes with dead soul, when you can see the beauty around you but can't feel it, which tortures the envious soul until it vanishes

Sanity lead me to curiosity, curiosity became madness which tainted my heart and soul with alluring wickedness of my hidden self

I've seen thousands of faces in a single person and ended up finding the most dangerous one hiding under them

Sometimes we need poetry to endure our most painful moments for it makes everything beautiful

I thought of several ways to end myself and to live is worst out of them

There are times when I let go of grass from my feet, wind escorts me and I dance with sky endlessly