(n) a low rumble of distant thunder
pronunciation: ‘bron-tld (brawn-tide)
—I am the thunder. And these are my brontides.
Out of my ware, every single day, I keep falling for this man—someone whose heart belongs to someone else—someone who I shouldn’t grasp the notion of being with. He’s gentle, so sweet and a man of chivalry. No one can purposely ignore that. In this universe of parading one’s self, he’s a man of humility. I, with my utmost power, tried my very best to ignore the heartbeats but, I, I failed. And I, I fell.
Yours is the face
That light up my days
It showed me the way
It blew me away
Away from my fears
And all of my tears
Far from despair
And what I can’t bear
Closer to Your care
And when it’s time; you must learn to let go of something you’re afraid to lose.
She found the entry point to the labyrinth of trouble when he smiled.
I was told to never look at the eyes, cause those were oblivion waiting for one’s downfall. “You’ve got entrancing hazel brown eyes there.” I uttered.
My pen inked the sheet as my hand started strumming the strings.
Dear, the picturesque sight of your smile’s making me sing.
They said soulmates have resemblance with each other as for the notion that they were angels above fighting the never ending battle. Lost from the war, they were separated into two beings—blindly searching for the other half in their lifetimes. And apparently you’ve lost the battle.
The question is; would you find the other half? Before the world be consumed by sin and hatred?
“How have you been?”
Here, still riding the roller coaster of confusion that I have never paid myself to be into.
“Oh, been doing good.”
Some people keep searching for that certain kind of love in this world, a love that can only be found on the cross.
Happiness isn’t about measuring the sadness of infinite galaxy to prove itself.
How would you say that you feel so empty without making people act as if you’re the saddest piece here on earth?
What it is that you will do, when the entire world need saving but no one notice you need it too?
Who are you when you are not wearing that facade, the mask that the world requires you to wear every single day?
And when home doesn’t feel like home, where would you go?
“Is my life another sad story?”