The torn remain of what was plain waves now ore frozen ground, in winds that blow cold ice and snow

It’s been used in so many movies, and series, and books to be read - some kind of sickness breaks out i… turning all into the living dead. I once thought the concept was sil…

I’m the same as everyone else, I seek what others seek - that path that leads to life amids… this world so dark and bleak. And as I’ve sought, I’ve often re…

What do the heavens think of me? When God looks down what does he… What things run through his mind a… Beholding one who once was there, now forging through this world of…

It seems evil flourishes time afte… Men follow cycles of hate, greed a… mixed in with apathy, jealously, f… I’ve wondered the cause but it’s r… For the war rages on betwixt Sata…

You sit there rocking, no more people talking, drifting with the wind across the… It’s peaceful like you planned it. No one make’s demands it’s

Love has so many forms by which it… in simple acts of kindness made in… Sometimes it takes a hand and spen… Sometimes it takes a few steps bac… And every time two lovers finally…

Sometimes it doesn’t go the way you thought it would at all. Sometimes the pieces all line up though randomly they fall. Sometimes I guess you’re better o…

Now, at the end, looking back... what else have I to do but reflect… in a sleepless round of ever mounting despair. Despair born and thereafter bred

As lightening shone and thunder bl… I danced the dance that dancers do… They danced it back and asked if… would mind them dancing through th… I thought no harm could come of th…

When will it be that it’s my time… I see all the signs in the air. Must I wait through storms til th… or is there a milder path there? When I was young, I never spent t…

The days don’t seem to give a damn… they march in step of time. They stare ahead with eyes of stee… while never breaking line. They torture me with disregard,

A life sustained by water pure, yet marred by memory of the wine. Like fragrant waft of soft allure diminished not by hands of time. Forever clear the water streams,

Holding all I hold that’s mine. A modern king. The gifts of time. Allot no grip nor means to hold. Today in grasp yet drifting old. Begotten days become as sand.

Each day I run, each day I hide from the me I’ve locked inside. The me I made in younger years. The me reflected in my tears. The me my mother warned me of,