"There will come a poet
Whose weapon is His word
He will slay you with His tongue"
Loneliness. Strength. Joy. You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough. Here's the truth : you are.
You sing songs and hope they carry faith, because you have run out if it, and yet you still throw your heart out to the world and hope it makes it through. You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create.
You are tired of stumbling through life. You dream of a ground you can stand on. One day, you will dance.
Your love is where you feel - without fear.
Art : The Desperate Man, Gustave Courbet
