Just a wannabe writer..
Desperate for the simple life, the essence of human existence. In the rat race we scurry, not a moment for resistance. Shut from human interactions; everyone dies alone
By The Odd Creature12 months ago in Poets
Dear old self, The person; who would you have become, If not for those people; friends, lovers and fakes Present time; much to be sorry for and then some.
By The Odd Creatureabout a year ago in Poets
You ignite the fire. Warmth from within bones, layers. When the world so blue.