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What?

Writing what appears to be the innermost thoughts of an emotionally stable being is rather unstable. 
Words that evoke emotions on levels unheard of.
Touching unsuspecting hearts.
Saying what they want to scream to the world but lacking the verbal strength so they hang on to those words for dear life.
Connecting thoughts with feelings, feelings with words and word with paper.
Paper that gets crushed like your heart when the expectations lead to disappointment and you crumble like the cookie you nibble on for comfort. 
The knee in chest bit came to life as you stare blankly into the night,  looking at every single picture. 
The picture of what should've been.
The picture you had no business painting. 
None. 
But you did. 
The landscape was absolutely remarkable. 
Get over it. 
The landscape is now the aftermath of a war. 
Just a pitiful war with yourself about what didn't happen, what should've happened. 
It's gone. 
Goodbye. 

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