I am constantly humbled by the beautiful world. I am lost and misunderstood. I let on to be strong, but instead I became more secretive. When I was young I made a sacrifice for the world before I knew what I was giving up. I made more promises than I could ever keep. I have suffered for a greater good; one I have no clue about. I knew that love wouldn't fix everything if the love wasn't from me to myself. I have vivid and gorgeous dreams. I cry to the music of sad voices asking why they're here. I'm afraid of what my future brings because what if I'm not what I want to be? All I ever wanted was to draw, write, and play music. Everytime I pick up pastels or my notebook or my piano; nothing comes out.
I feel empty and no one cares.
Sincerely,
Sad Voice asking why they're here
