survival of art

You know. You understand. But yet you still feel. You still hold on.

And then you realize this is what you feed on.
This pain is necessary for art to survive.

 

Oh, how you were born just to breathe and suffer.

Maybe that’s just your purpose.
Everybody has one, I suppose.

I hope you remember me. I hope you see something that reminds you of me. And I hope you smile and remember the memories we created together. And I hope your throat tightens up and it finally hits you. You never should have let me go.

-But you did anyways.

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