My Thanks

Henceforth I cannot express the pain I once felt toward humanity, it subsided with all of the rest. Thoughts of fear, of sadness once drove me. My raging hatred consuming what I thought, what I felt was my core, its restraint being only a pen and a notebook. Poetry as the backdoor. Hints toward expressing the passion as a gift and a curse both alike. But regardless of which, using both as a stitch to connect back the fabric of life. Compassion shown through example observed into eyes singed by selfish desire. You gave me the urn filled with tears of the past to dampen the once raging fire.