anyway to the real artists on here: keep doing what you do
to the wannabe artists and copycats: go sit alone and cry
(by which i am not stating that i am a real artist)


Call me sweet miseryI am nothing more than just a poetCall me sweet misery
that pours his heart out on numb sheets of paper
that will never feel the pain i feel while writing. They will only create a feeling for you to read,not to really experience. Create an impression that's going to be left blank soon. Fonts are there to fade,pages are left to burn, guess we all die twice... Thoughts fill all the blank sheets of paper. Give me a chapter and i'll write you the book. Give me an ending and i'll write you the beginning. Throughout this pen i speak up, against all the things i hate.
Throughout this pen i speak up, f


on.offLife is like a busride, people get on, people get off, people get lost, people find their way back home. But as for you my dear, i'll share my seat with you and guide you back home. For those you love you will burn, burn inside. For those you love you will scream, scream your lungs out. For those you love you will live, live and die.on.off


dear fatherdear father,dear father
i remember when you asked me why i was so scared of you
and i couldn't answer you. or better said, i was afraid to answer you. couldn't you see it? couldn't you see the fear in my eyes? couldn't you hear my tears fall on the floor? couldn't you hear my silent cries escaping from the brick walls behind which i kept all my secrets? I can still hear the hearttearing sound from the wheels of your car grinding the empty streets, i can still feel my heartbeat going faster and faster, as you push your gaspedal harder and harder. the flashes of streetlights filled my eyes.blan
--
-waiting For Godot-
sxe.
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