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Journal of a guitarist

im a young man of the age 16 most of my time i play the guitar other then that i talk to people on the net i write alot of poetly most of it of hreat blreak and darkness and way your free to read this if you want to, i'll start puting dark poetly

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feathers feathers, hurled in my gut, whats there to rut?, like something, bleeding that likes to rot, or nothing there, in the air, whatever, like I care, youing the pain of you all in vain, , I look up at your depair, its nothing like I care, I see ypu here and there, ,hey what do you ware, like, f*!@# like I care, seeing the feathers flow in the wind, watching them as they spin,mmh.. I wonder if I will win, the amend of my deadly sin, fall apon me as I spin, not yet dead, I lay there aas I siad, the flowof the feather in no more.