What do you want to read ? When my heart is heavy with sorrow i pour my blood and convert it into ink. Then, you shower love on me. You tell me my writing is like wine, elegant, beautiful.
Yet when i feel nothing but happiness and i pour my heart onto your feet you brush it away. You don't connect to me and now you don't shower love. "Your writing is like wine, elegant, beautiful, poisonous."
You don't accept happy because you don't connect to it. You flow like the rest in an ocean filled with grief. You use me like a mat and i serve you waiting for that one day you clean your sins away.
I honestly do not know what to write. I write with all my heart, but I've stopped gaining the love i used to. What are your expectations?