One more hesitation and dawn is gone. One more palpitation and my anger is undue. Clouded sky has glued my mood to the lowest extrem of the living scale.
She whispered loudly that I might not grant her life because I hate myself as much as her. Fair games are not played without love, and let the wind disperses my forgiveness. I exit the forlorn state of mind while running through the bare birches. I wonder if these slipery paths would subdue this cruel sorrow.
The stories we tell ourselves are limiting the infinite array of possibilities awaiting to unfold in our life spring. I had failed to sweetness, and adulterate the flavor of my thriteen self dreams, I owe to her to push boundaries harder. Hence I jumped over dead branches and acorns. Shall winter relinquish?