The pure soul of an artist is a mind consumed and swayed by love.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
The pure soul of an artist is a mind consumed and swayed by love.
Open your mind to the process of attraction and commit to happiness.
My soul, my mind, my heart. The bleeding parts cauterized, and I stopped being afraid. It is freedom.
My only advice - fix your mind upon a most interesting life and change to be exactly this.
A lost mind, locked inside cracking with emotion. I've tried living freely, that's simply not me. I can't reinvent myself.
A little voice in my mind would admit I deeply denied how his promises of comfort and love are empty desire. A sugar rush. I feel momentarily moved, but alone.
The demon who whispers love and hate, originates in our own mind.
A natural fusion of great satisfaction and complete happiness. I am man and woman - a comfortable state that lives in harmony, co-operating. A great mind is androgynous.
There can be no doubt that the mind is entirely swept away by the arrival of positive vibrations.
Has this mind, replete with ideas, perished? Pardon this gush of sorrow; words are but the example of anguish.