Only the bruises and the scars across the heart and the spirit, can define and tell the story of the person who one is. There are so many stories of where I've been and what I have done, how I got to where I am and feel the fears I fear, the joys that push me forward day after night. These stories don't mean anything if kept inside or kept being told only to myself. These stories are worthless inside a box. Life memories will live forever and the only asset taken to the day when I die. Roses and thorns, blessings and blasphemies decorate wild dreams and vivid nightmares, night or day...... Unknown"Amoks"Playful
- 16 years, 3 months, 12 days ago
