Colordeangel.

That shouts to the world everything we have inside of us, everything we believe in, and that tells us to scream as loud as we can, specially when we are told to shut up, when we are prevented to be who we really are.

The whisper of someone, collapsing in a chair, wore out by a letter, conscious that, once love is dead, with every new word, is another feeling that dies, and there are just hungry voltures left to fight for the rests.

Words have became a dedication for someone capable of keeping us alive, someone that for us will be forever « Sacred ».

When we realize that, even in a day where everything is just sadness and pain, we can turn around and see that there is someone by our side.

A life that is neither perfect nor magic, but made of passion, of tears, of dead and of desire to end this up looking on top of a roof the city’s fake attractive lights, in the cold and calm air of the night. A life plenty of feelings, and of persons trying to save us screaming our name and begging us not to die.