Some wounds so deep, words can’t even begin to decipher the consuming ache inside my soul, this is why I have art.

She gave life a meaning. She was art, dressed like a painters pallet, bright and unaware of how goddam beautiful she could be turned into; with the right touch, her smile was the brush and her story was the canvas.

For a long time imagination was all i had. I allowed it to take me to all the places i yearned to be, all the sights i longed to see, make beauty out of all thats been and create art from this suffering.