Dark to Light

I was not the artist who painted my life, for it was one tinted with strife. I had no friends no mates no pals no foes, I was just a kid left to cry alone. These series of unfortunate factors left my lonely heart barren and dull, turning it into a small heart of stone. This heart looked to melt, to expand, to be alive. In no way could this heart be less despondent. This heart had enough despondence to share among its surrounding world. One day it saw paper and this heart cried and cried and bled off onto the paper until its contents were all manifested in words and lead smudges. This poor heart knew in no way these words had power to resolve this life of sadness but it found an escape. These words were powerful in a different world, in a world where everything was all right, in a world where others could help this poor little heart. From then on this heart knew how to burrow into its own rocky landscape and find a world within itself that these words brought to life. These words found the little heart a friend:itself.