PinnedMaze poetryPersonal Narrative: From the Shire to NYCShe was eight. Her dark brown eyes looked up to the ceiling, wide open, wandering, while she stood in the middle of a bright milky colored…Nov 10, 2017Nov 10, 2017
PinnedMaze poetryTokensTime is a tyrant throwing the tokens of experience to itsSep 30, 2018Sep 30, 2018
Maze poetry202oz — how much fluid…or your lies… my lungs can holdI looked and looked for youMar 20Mar 20