Behind the keyboard, I can paint you a picture with words. Eloquently draw out a sad, but true story. Love lost. Love found. Life lessons. Comedy. Horror. My canvas derives directly from the technological advances of the 21st century. No more personal than a twenty dollar hooker from the four corners. But it's all mine. For the world to see. Next time, I'll mail you my story. It'll probably get lost, but its the thought that counts. To whom it may concern: my life is not for you to judge. But for you to witness. Painted pretty on that HD LCD screen you spent my entire months paycheck on. And tomorrow, you will forget every last word and ill be but a distant memory lost in cyber space. Only to be rummaged up by some child researching online blogs for his research project. And when I'm old and grey, I'll only have the words I wrote for the world to witness. For I wrote down my thoughts, relevant or not.
I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.
I love 'my life is for you to witness, not judge' message
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