You see heaven isn't some place that we go to when we die. It's that split second in life where you actually feel alive, and until the end of time, we chase the memory of that, hoping the future holds something better than the past.
I write with my past, about the future, for the present
I refuse to let past bruises cover the light. It ain't all good, but it's all good enough so I know I'm alright
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