A Window to my Pain

I want you to see what's inside: there's something lovely and broken and real, but it's dieing. The tip of the candlewick is flickering, the shriveled flower is curling up, the circles surrounding the eyes are growing pale. Nothing is more dreadful then the death of one's soul, my soul, and here is my story. The story of my death, because until you find what you're willing to die for, you're never really living.