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Personal Note:
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Poem
We've been through a lot, you and me. 
If we just press on, I know we can make it through.
You've seen me crying tears of pure pain and with every page I bleed on, I'll never be the same.
But I wouldn't trade not a moment I've lived.
With every word I pen, a part of my heart, yeah that's what I give.
You let me come and write, because I couldn't speak.
You've taken every ounce of my hate.
You just listen quietly through every sentence that I make.
This is an illness, I am sick to the bone.
My biggest fear is that I'll run out of paper, when my ink well runs dry.
But I don't need a canvas, my stories begin behind the tears that I cry.
I've abused you,
But you never stopped me, you let me rearrange!
I've twisted you into something that I know you aren't.
But you've never rejected me.
You simply take my abuse, knowing beauty comes from ashes.
But do us both a favor, don't let me near those matches!
You are my release, you let me scribble madly.
You never interfere, you listen gladly.
Never do you lash back, when I deserve a hit.
Nah, you're just always there, making sure I don't quit!
Because there's days when I'd rather die,
But you diminish my strife.
I come to you when happy, when horrible sore.
You've seen me giddy, but also laying broken on the floor.
I was just a kid when we first met.
But look at us now, look how far we could get.
We're an inseparable team, you and I.
I've gotten mad and ripped you.
But you never let me give in.
Nah, you let me get it out so depression can't win.
Sometimes I've got no other way, to release all this pain.
I'd this a remedy, or am I going insane?
I'm a sick human, writing all over my walls.
But in rage I take up a brush, and pain over the rhymes.
Even if I don't feel it, anytime I write, you're working.
this is a gift, granted by God.
But I cannot believe that, till he turns this snake into a rod, I’m faithless, nameless, one hundred percent hated.
Even I don't deserve the words I pen.
What's a quill going to do for my brokenness?
It can't mend! I don't hear sense, unless it's said nice n' loud.
All along I was finding respite in all the wrong places, are you starting to see where my mental state is?
So you got to understand, when I come to you I'm bleeding all I have left.
You've always been there, so I don't have to fake.
But are you really helping me or just keeping me awake?
I punch the walls, rage swelling inside. I don't know where to turn, so in you I hide. You're my notebook always there, not just a fad.
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