Fighting and Loving… what can I say
I think I’m allergic to fights, spats, moments of tension in places where peace should settle to stitch it’s lovely lullabies into blanketed dreams of past wishes for the children of men. Cause every time like magic, like clockwork, like *snap*! I feel my eyes lifting its weighted wings of lashes, I feel my body breath into itself filling my heavy leaded lung with air and fire like twitches throughout my fingers and toes like a firework set up on warm July nights.
Cause every time I hear my parent’s voices raise into agonizing cries of attention, anger and disappointment. I arise, to hear their calls, their barking, their soundless tears. I arise because somehow my sleep is fully driven upon the power of calmness, of eruptions snoring, of violent kicking of night terrors and smiling tears of dreams.
Now whether that means that I am a utterly happy person…
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