poetry in my bones, just a little plenty in my bones, it burns and burns even when i try cleanse away creativity in my bones, i have love for other things;

Life is a maze and death Is the way out.

I have spread the sheet to my bed… Now that there is no more experien… Now there is no more poetry, and n… There is nothing new to write abou… Under the sun or far away from bey…

There are sweetness in his blazing… Admiration of kind mind that winds… So, why halt? when the symphony Of grasp still commence, I can see the shadow line of where

My wishes—for all their dreams, I wish i could help, i wish i coul… The frost on the glass and hope fo… Not the stress but ease, and for t… To laugh at me when I wish;

This could Be Magic Only if You

Demons I will bring out the demons in you I will close the trenches and make The demons feed in you They will feel what it’s like for…

today make a trail for us to follow, eat like a poet so you would digest words think like a poet and never believe to be wrong, dress like a…

The beautiful frame hung on the wa… With dust and dark paintings i rec… O, bring a white wipe So i can clean off the sadness bef… The teardrops of the picture in th…

They lived and seed in light and d… Forsooth the great wall demise the… Oh no! the casts and judges are p… Although the reaction to the dark… The visual of their face goes blan…

Love growing could be as Short as a leave that kisses The sun begged to kiss not, It could be a lantern bright But not bright enough to see far,