By: John P. Weiss
I can’t sleep,because my sisters are crying,my brothers dying.
Sometimes, life is a blur. Sometimes, I don’t know what I am doing, why I am doing it, or how I got here. It’s a crazy little thing, life…
Singed by war. Scorched by love.A head of words. No off switch.Wherein compassion. Wherein affection.Container of hallucinations and…