He’s the little boy whose life depends on a pencil and a piece of paper. He wasn’t the kind to pour his heart out to the world, he was the one to pour his heart on the paper.
Random strokes, random splatters were the magic that described him the most. He despised the real world, but created his own with a brush.
Raging storms, and cloudy skies were his peace of mind. He would look outside the window every time lightnings hit the sky.
But he was never dark inside, his heart was originally made of candy, dipped in glitter. Now it’s half sweet half stone.
He was brought to his knees too many times, but he kept going. Scars formed on his body. Each one of them telling its’ own story.
He witnessed the injustice brought by the world, all those shattered dreams, those broken hearts, and stolen rights.
He thought of the magic he’s got in him, and learned to fight with it.
The best revenge is the change.
He’s not the little boy anymore, the innocence in his eyes had disappeared. He wished to stay pure, but that will never be.