I find infinite solice as i spill my thoughts onto a piece of paper. some how it manages to heal all my wounds, though they be many. i dont know what i would do if it were not for my gift of music/writing. i have faced countless battles in my life. it seems every time i reached a place where i could see past the now, the struggle, or the heart ache, it was as i found my heart crying out through ink from a pen. more times than i can recall my wounds are found bleeding on to pages that will ever tell the story of how i fell down, was broken, and was lifted above it all. never believe that your pain is without purpose. i embrace the sorrow because i know that what i learn from it will be far superior to what i must endure
