May the angels protect you, and sadness forget you.
My mother died when I was five, and all I did was sit and cry. I cried and cried and cried all day, until the neighbors went away.
I must confess that I am usually drawn to sadness, and loneliness has never been a stranger to me. But love tried to welcome me, but my soul drew back, guilty of lust and sin.
Hurt that's not supposed to show, and tears that fall when no one knows.
I made a vow that I would never need another person ever. Turned my heart into a cage, a victim of a kind of rage.
Suffering is a big informer, a big catalyst for creation. You take your sadness, your despair, your sense of injustice, and you put it in your work.
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