you have to be inspired to write you have to be motivated you have to have a reason but my life is art my words are ***** my chest is heavy, but art is bad and good it is the secret of life and you know what I say about it make your death a result of your art
you open your eyes you are alive and present you look in the mirror you see yourself and say '' I won't be good today " "but someday darling" says the mirror "you wont see yourself in me" "you will see the devil instead"
The words you're meant to hear For one reason or another Won't come to fruition Is it for the fear of everything I've imagined? Or the ugly truth that hides beneath. Both options don't seem plausible In my head So I'd rather get stuck Somewhere in the middle
