Some people like to hurt. Some always want to wings, they like to open wounds, they always want to be loved, but they never do. They always want to upset, they don't want you to be happy, they open the wound and they like to wings. Again and again.
Sometimes I think. What's a human? Who is it called?
You're looking at so many, you're looking at it, never actually yok Those who say, yok Yesterday I am everything, they are disappearing the next day. Those who say you breathe. You are the most precious part of the people who say that you are the most valuable part of the person.
You're looking at someone's closest friend, confidant, looking at you the next day you're no worse than you in this world, you've turned into your greatest enemy.
You look at me, I fell in love with you never say you give up, on the other day you look at you as if you never knew you, as if two strangers to each other as if they ripped apart their soul parts.
But there are ports. Those ports are good that I have.
I hope one day everyone can find their own port. And I hope he never loses that port.
