#mrdcks

He was raised on secondhand gospels, that he never learned to believe. Still he sung amazing grace, with a sinners hallowed grief. He was haunted by the Holy Ghost, such is the fate of the devout. But he spoke the language of the lost, with the taste scripture heavy in his mouth. He was of the faithless and the divine. And he did, as the damned do, became a martyr.

He’s there, standing next to you, and your eyes are open, and you don’t - you don’t remember dying, but, god, maybe you’re finally dead. And maybe, maybe your mama’s old stories were right. You do become the sky when you die. And what use would it be, to be a star, without the only sun you’d ever known? You smile.

i live in berlin, germany and it's basically the only place in germany that i like. people are honest as fuck (sometimes too honest lmao) but especially the older generation has like that hard exterior but soft inside thing going on,, still moving to england next year because i dislike the country as a whole but berlin is a pretty cool place tbh

It’s a tragedy, the way our story goes;maybe, perhaps, almost.

sara hh

hums my fave fictional character will forever and always be steve rogers tbh

Oh, how you loved the boy time buried, the one who danced through summer, with december in his bones. Like the tender hands of winter, wrapped delicately around your throat. (His body, a battlefield, spring could never hold)

i voted for the first url!