There’s so much history found between secondhand books and dusty cassettes, immortalizing the voices of the dead.
Life isn’t a Jane Austen novel and I’m not a doting protagonist.
I’m about as violent as the pastel shades used to color something pure and beautiful.
What more should I pay, to claim back what’s rightfully mine?
As the clock struck eight, My heart skipped a beat, I clutched my teddy bear tight As mama ushered me … More
Every Monday morning begins with a heart attack From the torturous ringing of the clock Can’t hit the snooze button … More
I am both a curse and a boon I travel the world in silence Sometimes I’m late, sometimes too soon … More
She buried her head on her pillow To shut out the muffling sobs Drowning herself in her own salty tears … More
As much as I am fascinated by the significance of the French Revolution.I must admit, studying those details were not … More