Faith no moreI ran away
'Cause it was easier that way
But couldn't you have asked me why
When I passed you by?
Only the chapters change
But the story remains the same
And one day you'll think of me
When you run out of people to blame
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The MuseShe was the self-proclaimed muse, and the quality of my art should not be telling on her beauty. The eyes were ethereal and the smile, ever-present. She obviously bathed in a fountain of optimism, far from the withered tree of self-loathing under which I lived. The match, if I may call it so, was unlikely. I was often afraid of polluting the beautiful world that she lived in, I was afraid of her becoming someone like myself, and if that were to happen, I would have no option other than hating her.The Muse
I didn’t know what she liked in me or my works, assuming she considered them as two separate things. She was a piece my pieces of
by ~myndsnare
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