Creation continues on my friends.
I’ve got a Mohawk baby
When you sit down and think. Violence is not something someone who loves you could do. But… They do.
Hate is something we all feared as a child - yet embraced as an adult. It’s almost like fear makes us stronger. Fear of snakes makes ones aware of slippery sneaky people, fear of the dark is about the unknown and consequences behind not fearing it. Neglect to a mirror could represent the denial to your own personal monster. Hiding, so deep down, that even you yourself get intimidated when they show up to a party. Maybe, in the end, hating yourself is where you learn to love the most of broken souls. Loving the hate within yourself is where you become supernatural - super human in some aspects. An outcast to society. Where you realize hate become just as natural as a heartbeat. Poison feels good and the dance with death makes you happier than the slow dance with life.
Death… Has a beautifully odd way of showing a perspective to very few. In the darkest of rooms, we are able to see enough light to cast a shadow to be afraid of. Fear is the reason good people realize violence could be a beautiful disease - infected by the aids of death.
Never again to feel a heartbeat the same way. Never able to love again like a human being.