We must break to become anything different than what we are. Whether it’s a broken bone, a broken habit, a broken marriage, or a broken heart, something must be destroyed before something new can be created. It’s the hardest most soul-wrenching experience—breaking to the utmost of what you always thought you were—but beautifully blazon and raw, wild as a black stallion and so worth the ride.
Removing all my poetry, and will probably not be posting anymore due to plagiarism and stalkers :( if you want a poem, dont be afraid to write me a little message ill be happy to share. :) <3
oh my brittle bones.
“Most of the dandelions had changed from suns into moons.” ― Vladimir Nabokov
I asked Saint Christopher
To find your sister
And she ran out in the woods
And she ran out in the woods
Oh, it was certain then
And we were trying to stop the winter
Killing all it could
Killing all it could
And I pray a lot for you
And I look out for you
We are what we are
Don’t need no excuses
For the scars
From our mothers
And we know what we know
‘Cause we’re made of all the little bones
Of our fathers
And I pray a lot for you
And I look out for you
And I pray a lot for you
And I look out for you
I asked Saint Christopher
To find your sister
She ran out in the woods
‘Cause she ran out in the woods
To find your sister
And she ran out in the woods
And she ran out in the woods
Oh, it was certain then
And we were trying to stop the winter
Killing all it could
Killing all it could
And I pray a lot for you
And I look out for you
We are what we are
Don’t need no excuses
For the scars
From our mothers
And we know what we know
‘Cause we’re made of all the little bones
Of our fathers
And I pray a lot for you
And I look out for you
And I pray a lot for you
And I look out for you
I asked Saint Christopher
To find your sister
She ran out in the woods
‘Cause she ran out in the woods
“The Woods” Daughter.
kill me.
(Source: Spotify)
