Because I couldn't write.

If only I could open my heart to show all the pain I'm putting it through by not letting go. Of all the things that once gave me hope, thinking I was strong enough to grow, meanwhile, I found what Jon Bellion did, being at my all-time low. In the depth of my mistakes, my notes began to fade, my passion ceased to exist. Poems, my solitude, my protection, to which I found an escape, ever gone through so much hurt, you begin to lose your gift? If only my heart and mind could be one but the constant battle between them, a souvenir that came with the pain. Love to pain, care to hurt, happiness to sorrow, and Control to rage. You don't know what you have til you lose it, funny I'm talking bout my Peace. As harmless as it might seem, Losing it brought death to my emotions, and my feelings remain deceased.