When you judge your art with number of likes you get in response to it, you're killing the artist within, and giving rise to an entertainer.

The writings are built by imagination. Emotions fill the colours to them.

All I want to do is, help you rebuild yourself.Restructure your devastated heart. For Iknow, it's impossible to build the exact sameshrine once destroyed in a place but at leastyou can make a garden of bliss over awreckage

Is the murk which lives inside me,actually a dead star?

The bait we set, never truly entraps the love, but lust.