urdearpisces

[urdearpisces]

Behind those wings..

A dead butterfly caught my eye. Slowly its pulchritudinous wings are crumbling. Butterflies' deaths are inevitable as their fates are fixed. Or not. As likely as not, they're anxious about a certain thought that their beauty would wither in the eye of the beholder. And reality hit me, butterflies are reflections of the human persona. Humans hold unique values that we find interesting. However, the more we drift into their lives, the more dull they might get. And that certainty torments our soul until we fall apart. Just like most distressed people, butterflies are just tainted souls. Behind those wings are hideous marks that they conceal through death.

The more we drift into their lives, the more dull they might get.

Behind those wings are hideous marks that they conceal through death.

[urdearpisces]

The Sun is You.

We admired the beauty of the moon that it gives us a sense of comfort. But it saddens me. We are less likely to appreciate the beauty of the sun even if it is the symbol of life and hope. The sun illuminates the world and the moon, but its existence is somehow familiar and odd to us. A similarity when we did everything for the people around us, but it turned out it's not enough.