Sounds Like Ghosts Writing Love Letters 2

This man was a poet. This man was a musician, even if a failed one. Hundreds stood before him, watching the beauty of a soul going up in flames. He rocked. No, he fucking rocked. He got trashed and gave shitty performances because he was fucked up. This man was an intellect; an enigma. A walking controversy. This man was an ocean of spirituality and a well of sorrow; a fountain of beauty. He always sought truth but bought his own lies. He wanted nothing more than love. He wished for nothing more than love. He went to war. And was forever changed.