Cliche

Her sentiments were never important as it was before. Tears were counted meaningless, sobs are nothing but a noise. A broken heart was just a cliche. Nothing really mattered. A dauntless spirit ready to give up. Yet, there is this spark of hope, a peck of light piercing through. It is the way it is, when the peculiarity frightens a brave soul and yet, in reality it’s a twist. In a dark room full of doubts and uncertainty, filled with pain no human could decipher. There is an odd wight pushing through impossibilities. – Anne Lacanaria

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s