 |
born of the sea,traveler by trade.my hand towards the stars,from your peaks i reach. o appalachia, my dearest beloved,it seems the heavens cried for t..
|
|
it seemsthere's a storm again.brewing above,the world is restless.under a bridge,peacefully sleeps the hermit.the grass and the ferns,provide him the ..
|
|
it could drive me insane,every breath you take.theres never been a moment,as good as enough.did you watch it fade,unfearing, never speaking?a token of..
|
|
its funny,how worlds collide.tangled in each other,every thought, never mine.i sit, on an oak bench,overlooking the lake.with stars as false guides.th..
|
|
this is a story/collection about growing, changing, grief, and fear.
|
|
read "dont talk to the child inside" first. this is the childs perspective and conclusion.
|
|
i know who i speak toabout my regrets, my insights.and he listens,still holding,that cursed knife.we've done this before.time,..
|
|
i think,when the bridges collapse.succumbing to the pressure,will be a beautiful thing.to be retaken,by the pit beneath.a selfish temptation,might jus..
|
|
it starts with a boy,longing for the tide.asking if it was just a ploy,was it worth his pride? he stares solemnly, at the moon.waves whisper their des..
|
|
i know you're here,somewhere.maybe sound asleep,did we ever dream? and i'm sorry,for everything you've seen.you're just as scared,as when we were thir..
|
|
|
first
prev
Profile
Writing
Friends
Share This