through feathered pens inked with blood and a scarred soul of overflowing abysmal ideologies; there sits an obscured entity, scribbling metaphors and ironies in a crumpled paper of her chaos, seeking for something out of all nothings.
and here she u...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
seashoreʼs kismet
i serenely watched the tranquil scenery, witnessing how the golden flares of the afternoon sun dared itself to dive unto the inscrutable ocean. only the oddly satisfying music of the turbulent waves can be heard as it ceaselessly tried to reach for the white sandʼs embrace. it was agonizing, for they can never stay in each otherʼs arms; the sand was left with nothing but the soft tails of white foam as the waves return to its azure home.
the sand was such a mooncalf for it foolishly waits until the waves attempt to reach for it once more, withstanding all adversities. and maybe, i am as featherheaded as the sand; because just like the sand, i can only wait for your unfeigned return.
holding the beautifully thorned scarlet rose you gave before you left—just like the white foam of the waves—i will dreadfully wait. in the place where we started and where we ended, in the seashore of which holds the same kismet as we have—i will wait for you, foolishly.
