Maybe I don’t cry but it hurts
Maybe I won’t say but I feel
Maybe I don’t show but I care
"
— Vitor Mota (via permeate)
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FIREHEART
THERE'S ALWAYS SOMETHING STYLISH IN BEING UTTERLY WICKED
YOU WERE COLD, AS THE BLOOD THROUGH YOUR BONES
SO GIVE ME HOPE IN THE DARKNESS
FOR ALL MY SWEAT, MY BLOOD RUNS WEAK
MY HEART IS GOLD AND MY HANDS ARE COLD
THROW ME TO THE WOLVES AND I WILL RETURN LEADING THE PACK
DRIPPING LIKE A SATURATED SUNRISE.

