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I tried my best, I really did. I used all the definitions in the book. To try and make you understand the scribbles in my head. For I keep shouting that my art is meaningless; it holds no value in its tears.
Dear best friend, You once told me "Trust is like a piece of paper. Art paper, blank paper, wide ruled, college-ruled--it didnt matter. Paper comes in many form, just like trust. 
Dear past self,
Dear, you You know who you are You know why you’re far Away, but I don’t care why Whenever I think of you I almost cry
We had ups and downs  I put you down  we judge each other  we fight but I love for  you had always been there for me, made sure I was okay,  pushed me to achive great things 
Dear child haven't you heard That there is evil in this world that tends to get blurred They disguise themselves to draw you in Then drop you off broken and alone in the end  
Roses and chocolate, are an illusion Reality lies in a bond without seclusion We both have lives, a healthy prolusion That weigh not on our spirit's fusion You are free And as am I
  “I love you.” Sometimes doesn’t sound like those words at all. For me, “I love you” is the hardest thing to say. When I do, it’s an empty sentence, too commonly used.
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