I guess it’s strange to fall in love with fire, but it never burns when you’re in love.
She doesn’t need them anymore. The wind, the earth and the rage. She leaves it all behind and when she’s falling, staring into the sun, wind in her hair, the earth coming up fast, she senses her mistake. The rage never left her. This is what Mother Nature wanted all along.
The world I live in is small.
A rectangular-shaped box that holds more than just me. There are brothers and sisters and cousins and ma and pa too.
We fight sometimes, but since there’s no where to go, I shrug and let them win.
It’s not good to make us angry.
If you do, our world goes up in flames.