Poetry
In shadows cast by life’s cruel hand,I stand alone on desolate land, Lost, forsaken, my heart bereft, In a world where bonds I once had left. With weary steps, I tread this path, Where laughter once danced, now silent wrath, Isolation’s cloak tightens its hold, As sorrow’
Poetry
When the first post is placed we allow a division to begin With each baluster we allow our outlook to grow dim Soon our vision doesn’t even allow the possibility of a gate, this however was the reality in our mind all along. Subscribe
Poetry
Cynicism is opium to blunt pain. I’m a user and I love the kick but hate myself. I admired myself before pain. There was a simplicity before I started lying to myself.
Poetry
There’s nowhere to go but forward, but that’s ok because today we are creating tomorrow’s memories.
Poetry
My altruism may be my most cynical quality, after all who will help everyone if I don’t?
Poetry
The haunting pain of labors dry My soul begins to close within my daunting try Flaunting in vain my neighbors pry My joy becomes gaunt before I cry
Newsletter
This is a story of a wandering notion A thought of glory thundering in emotion Shuddering as a quarry deep with commotion Clinging to life fluttering leaping of devotion How the bliss squandered was lesson learned Miss pine wander it churned the wind of these parts was earned Now the
Articles
Why is it that traveling holds such allure for many, including myself? Is it the allure of venturing into the unknown? An escape from the daily worries that consume our lives? Perhaps it's the thrill of witnessing breathtaking places and immersing ourselves in diverse cultures. It's
Poetry
This is a story of a wandering notion A thought of glory thundering in emotion Shuddering as a quarry deep with commotion Clinging to life fluttering leaping of devotion How the bliss squandered was lesson learned Miss pine wander it churned the wind of these parts was earned Now the