butterflyscars

We serve only ourselves. Passion, it lies in all of us. Sleeping, waiting, though unwanted it will open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us, guides us, passion rules us all. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments, the joy of love, the clarity of hatred and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more then we can bare. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace but we would be hollow, empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead.