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Series
Sometimes all you need it a blunt, a few pockets of words, a broken heart and a pen.
Sad. Of course, I know there come the days, when from dusk to dawn, one shall see but only one. Mother calls it the “days of Awakening”, such Irony. Never have I thought, they would come, on the brink of sunrise. Why not yesterday? the day bef...
I would sing to you, Ceaselessly, like the Ocean waves sings to the daffodils. Like the clock, lives to tell time, So was I crafted of the calmest sands, Eyes of the ocean's blue, and a feast to all that see, A mother’s pride. but for thy happiness...
