I cant do it anymore
I could before because I was aching in pain
because it hurt so much it spilled from every possible exit
through art my great sadness leaked
gushing at times, never ending
I wrote not to let anyone know
I wrote for myself
I wrote because if I tried to contain it
I wouldn't have been able to breathe
but now I can't write

I don't have the debilitating sadness anymore
and it scares me

I traded my art in turn for happiness, what does that make me?

What if my happiness is only in scale with a overwhelming sadness
its like I have to hurt
I always have to hurt
if I don't hurt then I can't be me
have I defined myself by a constant pain?

death is too easy
living is unbearable
where does that leave me
an artist without a skill
a body without a soul