Being a writer, a creator is a blessing but it also hurt. Your art feed on what you feel, your experiences - sometimes from when your demons decided to pay you a visit

Life is hard Blindly navigating through endless possibilities is draining

Streets full of flowers, a familiar sight I see you today and left wondered

When i opened my eyes again, i saw my messy desk with scattering drafts and books. The computer was still on, my fingers lingering on the keyboard for when i felt asleep i must be typing,

When i opened my eyes, i couldn't see much. It was dark, which was odd because it never happened after dark, but then again i never had the privilege of knowing first hand how everything was going to ...