I want to be happy
Not only for myself, but for the people so close
It’s hard not being envious
Even miserable
When I write, I come to life
Letting go of all my despair
And opening my soul
I write for the people I love
Or, the person I love the most
He wants me happy,
He want s me to be me
Well, depressing is me
Only on paper
My writing is a candle
Burning intensively to a scorching passion
It will die, only to become a glow in the night
And I know it
I just have to accept it
It’s not as if I don’t have people to write for
It just makes me sad too
Even if I focus on the sad








I can’t focus