Our minds travel from heaven to hell everyday.
Somehow within this arduous journey we find time to hold another hand.
Everything that can go wrong goes wrong.
At the end of each journey we find ourselves standing outside each other's body.
We wonder why but no logical reason justifies the fate that brings us here.
So we label it, we call it something beautiful.
To justify the addiction, to excuse the weakness, to explain the softness, to describe the euphoria.
On days when our manifestation doesn't reflect beauty we proceed to hurt and destroy it.
Spending more time in hell than we have to, wasting energy we could be spending in heaven.
For there to be beauty there must be ugliness.
For me to be perfect something else must be imperfect.
In order to live in your heaven I must walk through your hell.