. : B l o g w o o d ❀ T r e e : .. . . like the one I used to climb in my backyard . . .
I let beautiful things split my soul apart and show the flower that truly blossoms within it. I used to let a man touch the petals of that bloom, but I realized that it withers if you find a man with grimy hands. I am now in the fluctuation of music. It is the sort of fire that brings down acres upon acres of trees and then drops seedlings after its wake of destruction. I know that it will destroy me, but it’s a good kind of destroying because I can control it. Control is a bloody beast that wraps his weapon around my neck to make sure I can’t move without his permission. Maybe that’s why I only let the beautiful things rip me apart and let control stay still.