Been writing for as long as I an remember. Some of my writings emit darkness and despair. Others, are positive and upbeat. Writing, much like the smell of freshly burned cordite, is my therapy and coping mechanism.
- Top Story - September 2017
Behind Brown Eyes
There's a place in time, inside of my mind I roam freely. I search the skies, blind leading the blind, but no one needs me completely. Seeing these streets may defeat me, but you come and sweep me so neatly; and never leave me, so i feel greedy. 'Cause I'll never share you with the rest of the world, a possession like pearls. With an open mind, so hard to find; we intertwine through time behind enemy lines. Now, besides pride, I'm blessed with passion, stressed from fashion, question askin', dressed from blastin', no breath from laughin'. Though we may talk, I stay in deep thought and reminisce over women I miss; but you keep me caught in one of the webs that you wrought. With distant paces, friction breaks us. Time takes us through the trials of life, the downward spirals of strife and discussions of you becoming a wife. First, we must learn to walk hand in hand, woman and man. Heirs to this precious land, with waters on petals full, you placed on a pedestal. Inside out you're incredible, still I wonder if you're ready for the secrets that lie behind brown eyes?