Musings
Musings
What am I but a drifting shadow,
Of everything that I wish I could be,
If I could squeeze the pain out of my heart,
I would wring it on a piece of paper,
And cherish it as a form of art.
I do not wish to lose my scars,
So I open up my wounds every night,
And watch my memories bleed,
Like a bittersweet treat,
The pain pushes me to stand strong and fight,
The Seed of Darkness growing up to become the Light.