It felt like gravity swept me off my own feet when I tried telling you that heaven took the simplest of my energy and turned it into something so difficult to breathe in again. So why is it so difficult to tell the truth and not be afraid to let go of the future? Why is it so difficult to admit that you're clinging on not to hope like we're supposed to, but to fear and an alternative that becomes mandatory if you ever want to live again? Why is it so difficult to promise a bird with broken wings, that he will taste the sky again?
Sometimes people say things not to genuinely help whoever's in need, but to let that person know that they want to help.
But sometimes, it gets too late, and true colours reveal themselves.