Little boy

Do you want to know how pain feels like? Try writing from the heart when everyone you love has either left or is deceased, when every heart beat causes pain instead of giving life and when such a torn damaged heart is still expected to fully function and expected to love without holding back knowing very well we’re on top of the edge.

“I’m scared of heights...”

I’m still the little boy who believes in magic, believes in fairytales and the very same boy who believes that tomorrow is a better day. The boy who wrote how he wanted life to become because life once made this little boy pull one too many fingers; the boy who believes in seconds chances irregardless of how many times we receive them.

“Believe little boy, believe.”