I think I can paint this world for you now. From decadence and disorderly life to death and blank slates. Something I own, expressed dearfully to you as if I have always owned it. Perhaps remembered by no one in the end, but for now, maybe even just a glimpse of light from the murk and more, just to prove it can exist. even if it fades within the hour.

Sincerly,
       Rosier.

Dear Death,

Things are turning into ideas. I dream of leading the world before it starts waking. 


A new world where religion is recognized as the philosophy of living and becomes more advanced with its newfound recognition of self it has not had before. 


A world, where there is only one, I value. If there are others, forsaken is what I knew, and I, lost to void. 


This is why love is a choice of person'. 


That is why our age is empty so full of colors.


Unlike The Growth I have Become.