I could paint you a picture.
But it could never speak the words of my soul.
It could never even attempt to fake the intensity or power behind my sentences.
The sensarity of what I say holds a million different color's in hues that haven't even been imagined.
So a painting.
Just isn't enough.
I could sing you a song.
But music today is to metiocore.
You'd be to busy waiting for me to speak about materialistic thing.
Or nonsense violence.
That my message,
My purpose wouldn't be heard.
So a song.
Is just you asking to much.
And so i decide to give it to you straight.
Just black and white.
The truths that so many decide to turn away from.
The truths thats easy to loose in the moutain of colors in a paintngs.
Truths that you can't ignore when there's no distractions.
Just words on a paper.
That speaks in that voice in your mind.
That's why i write.
To present to you, what is me.