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Finn  |hey|their|there|they’re|

“There she was, with a smile so bright and a grin so deep. But that was all a mask, a cover, a shield of protection. The mask was for emotion she never was able to give, the cover was to hide the bruises, cuts, chains, and hands that choked, and damages the wings she needed to fly. The shield Was for the others, the people that she had to keep away, not for her own good but for his. This little bird never flew and never chirped, she protected, shielded and covered what he wrecked. This bird, is what saves, this bird is what heals, and this bird is what freedom from death looks like. We all need a little bird in our lives” - the bird of salvation, love, and freedom

For Emma,
HE knew her well. She was the one that broke him all too soon. HE was her first everything: love, kiss, and protector.
Soon HE became her, taking her every consumption, thought, joy, and movement until she was without form. HE took all that she was.
Her heart was first.... than came the pain from his fists that so every carefully took her comfort, her self worth, and her inner being.

“Your grip became closer, your hands became stronger. Though you were far, your arms were stretched. Though you scream joy, your core is that of great deceit, lie, anger, and void. Though you long for reunion you steal the calm of those who bring me life. Though you want to lead, you take me, ruin me, and than laugh at the creation you ever so carefully spat. This is a feeling, this is a hatred, this is a song to you oh keeper......” - a burning ache from the birds soul. If only it’s creator would release.

“Screams filled the air when life was given, steps were taken on the day of her time, her heart was filled with love that overflowed from laughter. Carolina was her, a name so kind, so sweet, so pure. Carolina was her name, a name that brought youth, innocence, and love. Carolina was her name, a name so kind, so sweet, so pure.” - the hoolahooping Portuguese gal named Carolina

“Wrapped in happiness, the woman sat, in her permanent state, where she was greeted by those of distant times. Matilda was her name, a name felt rough by those so mean, her heart so full with things unseen. Matilda was her name, her name so great, her name so kind. Matilda was her name.” - A story from a book that was written 65 years ago about a woman named Matilda

🔜

““Goodbye to a time of unspoken thoughts, but of written down times. Goodbye to the behind and hello to the front, no more sting, no more urge, we are done here forever more. Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye” - the end of a long story that has taken place in hearts of love, in hearts of pain and anger, in hearts of selfish narcissism, in hearts of abuse, in the hearts of many more things done to the poor soul struggling for his light at the end of the tunnel. His wish is for that light to be ever so much more than the light at the end but the light right there. He says Goodbye to you all, and wishes his heart could still be with, but now it’s no more. Goodbye”- the Goodbye letter of a past him

🔚

“To this year of ups and downs I say farewell, goodbye to another space of time that has been full of fake laughs and real tears. I say hello to my new heart that is being formed through the one I call I am. A new beginning to a long story set in the Provence of space full of fruits that are full of smiles and joy. So I say again to you, Happy new year, to my loves, my joys, and my people” - A man saying goodbye to his old year of time.

“Rusted from pain, colored in a color oh so grey, the birds cage is all that’s left of the dark room. None to be seen or heard for help. He is alone, without hope, Love, Joy, and a sense of peace. for any moment the brother may return. •
The marks so prevalent, are from the brothers gruesome pluck, a pluck so constructing that death itself is ever so afraid. PLUCK for personality, PLUCK for color, PLUCK for flight, PLUCK for happiness, PLUCK for being a chirp in the quiet life. •
Within in time the plucks stop as the cage is opened, after time oh so long freedom is so close yet so far away. For there is still a space between swing and door. Still broken and pained by the brothers pluck, he sits and waits for his wings to spread.” - the photo of a bird trapped in a cage of destruction

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