A Dream, Written by a mad woman.

I keep writing, why?
Has the world gone crazy?
Have they lost their minds,
Or have I lost mine?
Thinking I could make something breathtaking? 
What is the world without art?
What is a museum without paintings and statues?
What good is an Instrument that is never used?
A stage with no singer? 
An empty book…
I can't stop writing. 
I can't make myself stop, 
There's something I'm working towards, something I have no clue about. 
I write for myself.
For my friends' entertainment.
I don't force it
What good is art if you don't mean it?
It has to be genuine.
Smooth, like a river stone
Force makes it blunt, jagged, and dangerous.
Pick words with care.
You stand by values, but don't look down on the beliefs of others,
Right?
Is this who I am after all this time?
Confused? 
Hurt? 
Bleeding?
You're looking at it the wrong way if that's what you see.
Determined.
Ambitious.
Healing.
Don't turn me into something I'm not,
Just because you see it differently than me.
You want to fight me,
Okay.
Just not about my dreams,
Not about how I could fail doing something I've wanted to do my entire life. 
That's when you need to shut up. 
You can't stop me, I won't let you. 
I want this too badly,
Worked for this too hard.
If I fail, I try again,
And again,
And again. 
I won't let this dream go.