We live in a painting of undefinable beauty
A star filled haze without definition. You run to...
The urge to tell stories,
to tell the story...
What if enemy
is in you telling you who...
Sweet the rain fall
That helps me fall to sleep...
Palavra de Dios
Children...
And the lover cried out—
I burned my youth...
A writer not only writes what the writer feels but the writer can also feel what the writer writes |
Being in love is like playing with fire you always get burned |
Must keep my eyes open, can't fall asleep yet, I'm widely wake, but for how long? |