Errors are red
My screen is blue
Rest In Peace
System32

I want to yell, I want to cry..
I'd like to tell, I don't want to die.
I need company, cause loneliness sucks.
Ain't no one out there giving no ♥♥♥♥♥?
I think I know now, how great masters have felt,
When they wrote stories, which people's hearts can melt.
They felt misery and emotional pain.
They wrote their stories, not for own gain.
Their bleeding souls, living through hell,
Created wonders, to make others feel well.
Is it misery that wakes the great muse?
Is it what makes such emotions flow loose?
To create these small wonders, to make such pieces of art,
The muse comes first and plunders, rips your soul apart.
Is it still a gift, or already a curse,
When the muse inspires each written verse?