Hazel, bright, and smiling like the sky.
Sky? note exactly, I’d say Nebula.
Exactly nebula.
Beautiful. and it’s not just blue.
I can see the green and gold too.
And redish.
Explode in the beautiful scene.
If you think that explode was murderer, a lethal killer.
You’re not so wrong. But may I ask you?
Will you see the beautiful from a little explode?
Like your fart? No, gross!
But will you see the beautiful from volcano’s explode?
Nebula? the explode of the star?
Storm? the explode of some scientifically process?
Yes, yes, wonderful!
Tornado? God, people are willing to die to catch picture of it.

Disasters? It’s like everything you wanna hug.
But they will kill you.
That is hazel, that is disaster.
Beautiful, but you can killed while you have or want to have it.
And like now.
I see that hazel, I face that nebula.
And I know I can’t have it.
she have it.
She embrace it.
Because that hazel isn’t that nebula I told to you.
And that’s not the disasters I told you too.

He is just that hazel I’ll never have.


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