

Young Man's VisorBehind a grinning vizard, a young man Dreams of shapes of amber and soft hazel, Weeps to a sweet and formless lament, And laughs to a cerulean ocean ablaze with a dying days crimson. No logic to the maelstrom behind his eyes of turquoise, And if any, too unexplainable to be lashed down in literature.Young Man's Visor
Flesh and blood and sinew and bone, crowned with the name of man Attempting to find meaning and an end. Love? Happiness? Knowledge? Vagueness blurs the journey and its purpose, our lives are too short. Careless meanderings of thought, typed to satisfy a young man


Imperfect and ProudPerfection. What bullshit. I am imperfect. Happily so. Proudly so. Defiant To perfections facade. Should I be?Imperfect and Proud
No? Then what is perfection?
... Think. The unblemished existence? Spared fault, emotion and pain? What is life without wisdom of faults? What is wisdom without guiding emotions? What emotion exists not entailing pain? Perfection is furfilled. Finished. Final. It holds no purpose. It is done. We label perfection. Her eyes. His figure. Their creation. Careless impressions giving basterdised form.
You would not name that which you love wi
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Please take a look at my literature.
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How are ya? x
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[link]
Please take a look at my literature.
Critique is encouraged...
Friend Code: 1719-9344-4458 on Platinum.
Avatar made by *Veemonsito
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