When griping grief the heart doth wound,
and doleful dumps the mind opresses,
then music, with her silver sound,
with speedy help doth lend redress.
-William Shakespeare
Friday, January 15, 2010
Crucified
Why is it so hard to die to myself, and take up my cross whenever the moment begs me to... such a desperate cry to crucify the things in my heart... yet so powerless, and so weak...
I'm nothing and have nothing. I feel so unworthy inside and I wish I was just dead.