He doesn’t believe me ㅤabout the crazy winds —
“Oh, is it that time again?” said the white cat named Mao where she helplessly lied on a big, light pink cushion, without raising her…
It always smells of old popcorn and socks at Conor’s house, so I don’t like to go there too often – especially not since we had the…
Suicide is the ultimate poem
Inside compassion,
nothing changes.
when she beganto fade, we knew it was the end coming on death—a sure partner to the earth’s turning