

The Art of LivingI sing in the dark with my eyes wide open, alone in a locked room with my heart bleeding out rainbow colors and candy hearts, metaphors in textbook margins and dreams of monochrome skies, futures read in burning bones and pretty, broken things that cut deep before you touch.The Art of Living
I sing until my throat is raw and my voice is hoarse, until my heart is dry and my blood is gone, splashed across these walls.
I sing until I am empty, until I have nothing left to give, and, for these moments, I feel alive.
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