I am sitting here wondering why I care about whether I write something that no one will read. I know that I write not for the audiance but for myself but today it is hard to see past the glassy eyes that let in so little light. I want to care, to write, to fill this blankness inside with words that mean something. But words are just air expressed too quickly, held too dear, and lost too soon. There is pain that has no bandage. A void that life hasn't filled. An itch that I learn to leave unscratched....
punkereli3:
nicely put! sometimes words are not enough.. most times actually..