B.e.s.t The Rose of Winslow Street P.P.T

I'm trying to write but my soul is at war you see. My pain is anger. My misery is an art. My loneliness solitude. I dance to the heartache. Cheers to the memories I can't erase. I miss you sounds like what a good for nothing idiot you are. I am afraid I never cried. All you will know is that I never cried.