And Now, A short poem.

I laugh to myself, not knowing if Im supposed to cry. The sorrow that comes with failure, yet you see different. What do I desire? A question I could never answer. What does it mean to succeed. Tis but only fake and untrue to thou who find their work displeasing. Hath thou not been raised to what one loves? Shall it be named taboo, that we raise our children, to live this way.

(Just something random I just made up off my head. Ive been undergoing a lot if stress lately and I think i may get back into stories. As, it feels good to write, to express ones feelings. So, ladies and gentlecolts have a good day to you all, and happy writing/typing.)