To you

I'm no poet
I'm no special person
I'm no writer
I'm no artist
I can't write poetry
Those poems you read
Yes they where made by me
But they are not good
They were just appetizers
The rest is locked up deep down inside me. Sitting there waiting.
Waiting for that chance to break free. Break free On that perfect angel. My true love. You will know when I'm using the real stuff because it will touch you so much it will make you cry. and you will keep crying till i wipe those tears