The imperfectly perfect.

Hidden from society’s gaze there is a layer of pain, fear, mistakes, many wrongfully walked pathways. All lay there to be grasped. They lay at the end, there where trespasses no light.
Into the darkness, the void, the realm of the night produces weary images projected onto the mind.
Trough the portals created by the gods i glimpsed reality. Isn’t it funny how the “rude” are the gentlest a man can find. That the “big mouths” have the tiniest hearts.

These imperfectly perfect paradoxical natures, who, i think, have no clue how beautifull they are. For the plastik perfected madness has infected their brains with this contemporary madness. A little touch of sadness creates the most beautifull human beings.

It’s how they bare their pain. Sacrificing themselves for to smile in vain, for to bare the bitterniss of a mad world. The angers and the betrays never go away. They are there, hidden within their minds, into the realm of the dark which paradoxically is where you best hide your inner spark.

Within the realm of the dark the sun cannot reach, only your inner spark there can teach that nothing is out of reach.

A beauty of imperfected perfectly created harmony generating this momentum reaching further than above, reaching far beyond infinity.


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