What is music? Is it just letters put together to make sounds, That are clumsily clustered into words, That are strung into a sentence Which follow a melody That is woven together with notes That are struck by a tool we call an instrument. Or are they the sounds of our souls That are thrown into the world To give meaning to our existence, To let people feel what we feel, So they can understand the views of others.

..........                                                                              I'm afraid to be alone,                                                                                           to think,                                                                            to let my mind wonder,                                                            my mind has became a trap of pain,                                                                            I used to love to sleep,                                                   My nightmares used to be a comfort,                                         It sho

My dear angel, Here I am in this room again thinking of you. Why do I do this to myself? To cause unneeded pain, to give me a reason to hurt myself, or to just kill myself and get this worthless thing I call my life over. Yet I can't, I can't, that will cause pain to the ones I love, it would be selfish. My suffering  is something I have hidden behind a fake smile for all these years, and held all these tears back from the world, giving up would make all of it worth nothing. Giving something as important as a life up, even one as useless as mine, over something as unimportant as my feelings for you would be irresponsible. Yes my feelings for