kirbyfight1

Bob Riley once said: “Hard times don’t create heroes; it is during hard times when the hero within us is revealed.” Everyone searching for a hero; people need someone to look up to. The thing is, people forget one important fact sometimes - that we’re all heroes -but I don't blame them; in this world we live in, we the urbanized are surrounded with social media, for better or for worse. We are spiders. Spiders living on a web spun by voices online, pulling a femme fatale on us, telling us what to be, that our quintessence isn’t their quintessence, that ourselves right now aren’t amazing examples of heroic

...So he said "Let it sting."

Time itself is shamelessly fickle; much like fortune it has the undoubting morale to take away all of which it has mercifully bestowed upon us yet even worse it can do so without our consent Can we really entrust that our motivation be kindled by the hours that slips away before we can grasp it? Does it overpower the passion to follow what you believe? Do you work with more strain proportionate to the seconds stolen, or rather, do you work by heart, no matter the hour lead by your passion? There’s no more time for “no more time;" A passion fought for may bear fruit after the labour but only if the passionate live

Nature grants me strength as I long for your presence; Our love for spring  brings dreams of your grand return as I wait under blossoms.

Adding the term “useless” to anything doesn’t deem it as without a use. It deems that it's  use  has been acknowledged  less  towards it's credit.

I can't act on your advice to me; to "be myself" can't happen if you tell me to do so. Let me speak for a second, please. To "be myself," Shouldn't I do as so myself?

(you're in vain, stuggling to stand on your feet) every day is filled with (bawling) (Your depression; unforgiving) (fake, forced) smiles. Everything seemed (out of the) ordinary, Countless hours of downtime spent (in solitude) (suffering) reminiscent to your (bloodied) childhood (you're dying to deem as forgotten history). You were to express yourself (and your thoughts of revenge and suicide) to the rest of the school, through the form of a dramatic speech, that was to captivate all of us. Suicide was all that resulted after all the hate and prejudices that rained upon you. Although there's no turning back now, your speech taught me somet

Your pain s imensy pwrfl; yr struglng to stand n yr ft evry day you bwl, yr deprssion is unfoving you muster al te fadng hpe you posess and bet it al n suriving but cutin, and ultiately suicde is inevibly your oly anser. You, were my favourite target because you seemed to have no reason to fight and defend yourself. Never again, will I view the world with my eyes alone; I can only see but a mere fragment of the picture. I had to learn the hard way.

As I look down, I see, Valiant dawn, coursing through the morning Wet dewdrops, falling, the gentle breeze, that tickles my lips and all of nature, the birds of the sky, the fish of the sea and all things that walk on Earth, bursting forth in a rapturous melody joyfully resonating though the dewfall past winding mountains past twisting waterfalls and past parts unknown. I marvel at the beautiful sight. I knew That was ours. Our memories. I mentally carve that image in my mind, as I witness Mild winter sunlight clothing fresh maroon cedar bark Embraced in white, Gold streaks soaring across the delicate fabric. Laced into complex patterns I ca

I am the director of my own play, I am the starring role. I can go anywhere with my own creations, but offstage and on, nothing will ever always work out. Sometimes, I masquerade as a hero, but inside I am just a stunt double. Sometimes, The pinnacle of my achievements are lucky to place me second-fiddle, or worse. And even through all this strife, the show must go on. Even if my feats get me a flurry of vengeful humming and maybe a tomato or two, I will still acknowledge, their opinions and mine. From the genesis of creation to the grand finale, It's ok to make mistakes it's ok to improvise, to sculpt your own way, to misplace a line or tw