Let me die of heartache and be reborn by the magic of the sea washed to shore in pieces but stronger than ever before I’d rather be broken and bloody because the marks left behind will sing of my rebellion
March 4, 2016
To disappear didn’t necessarily mean to die or be ridden of life; it meant to live within its pockets, where no one could see me or disturb me. This was a place I could be airy, like a winged thing, hovering over all and seeing all.
While you let your own crazy out, ten thousand children learned to walk today. And somewhere, miles, or rather, planets away, a moonbeam smiled down on the Earth. And under that smile, ten more realized that the crazy... well, it doesn’t need to be contained. And from them, ten others. And so ...