As I sit here writing this, I can't seem to find a description of the shadows which encircle the bonds of this hell that strangles the state of my mind. I cannot seem to find a passion anymore and worry that my new found talent was only due to the solemn discontent I found myself entirely engulfed in. Truthfully, I cannot comprehend a feeling i would enjoy so much if this statement was confirmed a reality, but it seems that inspiration only comes from a world of hurt and confusion. How can this be fair? Rhyming with poetic fashion and creating beautiful images with words can only be the justice of those held responsible. Maybe I'm trying too hard and am a complete amateur.
These are not the droids you are looking for.
-bw
i love this.
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