I don't know why I bother trying to figure anything out because the second I do...it becomes something else. I am perpetually confused.

You were meant for heartbreak and sorrow...And than eternal happiness.

You were meant for heartbreak and sorrow...And than eternal happiness.

Take these tears and put them on the pedastal you built for me.
Can perfection cry, you ask.
This trophy does.

It is easier to hate someone for having something you want, than hating yourself for not having it.

He wasn't the perfect love, but we loved perfectly.

True love exists. You just hae to be strong enough to embrace it, and weak enough to let it embrace you.

They say don't judge a book by its cover, but what happens if the pages speak for themself?

There are two kinds of poets: those who have lost all and those who have lost nothing. But the real tragedy is for the poet who lives in both worlds. One cannot really comprehend the burden of poetic words unless they, themself dwell in both worlds.

You don't pay attention to what you have. It's only when it's gone that you notice.