I walk out the door with a heavy feeling in my heart as another secret falls on top of it.

No. I just never wanted to throw them away. Even if they were broken. I still loved them.

You can't just change who you are on the outside and expect it to change who you are on the inside.

I write the word solitude on my wall and then below it: Do you know me at all? Are my words just air? Is my heart easy to spare?

People say that time heals all wounds, and maybe they're right. But whit if the wounds don't heal correctly, like when cuts leave behind nasty scars, or when broken bones mend together, but aren't as smooth anymore? Does it mean they're really healed? Or is it that the body did what it could to fix what broke.

You don’t forget. You just move past it. Let go. Be who you were supposed to be instead of who they make you feel like you should be

Four wings, two hearts, but only one soul. They connect in the middle, but are separated by a thin line of ash. Its what brings them together, yet rips their feathers apart. They can never truly be together as light and dark. Unless one makes the ultimate sacrifice. Blows out their candle, and joins the other in the dark. Or if the other dares to fly across the line and steals the others light And force them to cross over the line and join the darkness of life. Im not gone, princess. I will come back for you until you give in.