F U R Y W I N G S

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I'm a sorrowful angel. No tears left for me. But the hollowness is ever present. Vast. Infinite. Never fully vanquished. Even when I am reaching contentment. There will be a dot of hollowness. Like a drop of ink rippling on water. From merely a drop, enlarging and spreading till it consume me whole. Enough to bring me back to where I belong. Reminding me of what I really am, what I'm truly made of. Nothing but pure sadness. Poetic but shouldn't be romanticise. Just enough to admire. But only from a distant. Because darling, I might burn you. Maybe not today, but someday. And I don't want to hurt you. So I'll wrap my wings around you. Saving you from chaos - mostly yours. And also mine. A fire so intense, so raw. Hence, burning me instead. Even though, I'm made of it. And while you live, I'll die. For you, I will.

NAM
06-09-2018/2123

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