The art I use has no meaning
I use be radiate happiness
Creating art is no longer in me
I willow away like leaves falling off during autumn.
People tried to push me towards my dream.
But my depression took it's grip.
And there went my dreams down a dark spiraling hole.
Art saved my life for the longest time.
As well as many other things.
But all the things I used to love and enjoy.
Are slipping out of my hands.
Then what will happen?
The dark cloud will consume me like it had many unknown others.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 1:02 AM UTC
The art I use has no meaning
I use be radiate happiness
Creating art is no longer in me
I willow away like leaves falling off during autumn.
People tried to push me towards my dream.
But my depression took it's grip.
And there went my dreams down a dark spiraling hole.
Art saved my life for the longest time.
As well as many other things.
But all the things I used to love and enjoy.
Are slipping out of my hands.
Then what will happen?
The dark cloud will consume me like it had many unknown others.
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