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The Artist's last poetry on this horrid site.

And from after suicidal hour.
A strong loss I felt of power.
I saw others differently In my eyes.
I thought differently about lies.
My passion was now see-through.
Twisting the eternal untrue.
My destiny; It was hard to realize
My work and ideas were idealize.
I love what I do now
Write, Write Angst I vow.
I thrived to live through the pain
And I was no longer seeing anything to gain
So I turned to literature; the majesty of creativity
What I noticed it was all negativity.
I was left with just one.
One purpose; To write than say none.

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