*also a repeat from Broken Crayons Still Color *
Art never comes from happiness.
And you gave me a reason to write.
But the gentle and pain filled words that flow out of me when I'm crying myself to sleep, should be remembered as the outcome of everything I've done, everything I've seen, and lived through not something stupid and hurtful you said just to get to me, or something I did that you didn't happen to agree with.
My words are better then you, and you don't deserve the recognization.
YOU ARE READING
Chaotic Hearts
RandomIf you like happy endings; this book isn't for you. * A book of insomnia, depression, anxiety, and loss* *TRIGGER WARNING*
