Imagine drowning in destructive thoughts all day, crippled with fear and the highest degree of desparation and hopelessness. This is my attempt at understanding it.
Love them in December as you do in May.
On some days, I spend all day trying to come up with a good piece of writing, On others, I wake up at 2 a.m to get a glass of water and come up with effortless verses. This is one of those works of mine. To romancing with the night times, and to grief.