Poetry is like a muse of words twisting away from our mouth. We are the weavers of our own design. We are the weavers of our soul. Here lies my story spoken in the words of a unique unicorn who strayed too close to the sun.
The little white lie like a dying rose is that your writing does not matter. Don’t listen to the birdy…
Dedications page because one line is just not enough to explain who inspired me in life.
