Not necessarily thorns make you flow,

Words are enough to cut your throat,

Like a sword hanging on your head called depression,

Like a beautiful bottle of venom being your muse,

Worry like that dark night calling your name,

In death, surrender and pitiful fame,

Make sure you are stronger than the strongest,

Believe in yourself because that’s the only option left,

We all can relate to the struggles you face,

We hide ours as you laugh, cry and debate,

It’s not easy, it’s not tough, it’s survival,

What makes you you is just a sweet oblivion,

You came from dust, stars and magic to be honest,

While you stay besides a garden, let not the butterflies stray…

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