There's no limit

No place for soul. There's no place for soul. No soil for heart. There is a chalice to the blood that hands shed, screaming for the inner-pain which is killing her minds. Their sorrowful faces, lighting the darkness of their sadness. Living just with a failed love, and just for that failed love... Even in woe proudly of being the ones. They like obscurity, they like their purity, their sorrow and the screams of the heart- and silence... Because they don't dream about being only humans, so they fight for their hope.

Even I was tired... my wings... they blew soaring to the moon, with her beatiful melancholy and pain, seeking for my hope.

Child, you've become a God. I love your beauty as much as your faults. Don't stop flying to the infinity...

Lyra Gothe,,