Musings

What am I but a drifting shadow,

Of everything that I wish I could be,

If I could squeeze the pain out of my heart,

I would wring it on a piece of paper, 

And cherish it as a form of art.

I do not wish to lose my scars, 

So I open up my wounds every night, 

And watch my memories bleed, 

Like a bittersweet treat, 

The pain pushes me to stand strong and fight,

The Seed of Darkness growing up to become the Light.