I cried for the beauty of friendship wept at the reality of healed trauma Tears fell as rain on…
a poem.
Please do not judge me so harshAs I do not know what brought me here.
Splendor
You’re the answer to the questionin my heartwhen I first grew awareof the sun’s…
We are agents of demise,Bred to consume this paradise,When our facades fail to disguise,Our unholy unity.
I decide to be famous only to myself: A poetic reckoning
A smile, a truthful one,Where fear, anticipation, and reason collide,The shell I reside in, no longer a lodge,Yet, I cannot decide…
In my house there were no gates
“But the sun itself, however beneficent, generally, was less kind to Coketown than hard frost…’ ― Charles Dickens, ‘Hard Times’