Despair is a night without lights. Dreams are the sunrise that leads you out of the darkness.
They say, poetry is dead. I say, was there ever a time they had a clue of what the state of poetry is?
I was a poet. I had no expectations other than creating a world of art with words that would live on long after I was gone.
There is no value in your promises. They are as hollow as fangs and poisonous as the venom within them once I allowed them into my heart. &nbs...
Published on August 07, 2015 14:26