There was this guy named Billy and he lived on the East Coast, he lived a peaceful life but he always did the most. See, everyday when Billy rose he made some french toast, then he baked a rib roast,...

I wonder if the creators ever wondered what the effects of their creations may be... If you have the ability to do something- it does not always mean you should.

Torn like a puppet being used for spare parts. Stretched by the hands of greedy crafters looking to build something new.

Part 2 of the words I never got to speak.

Quick thoughts of a young coffee drinking dreamer.

A short summary of the words I wish I could have said to you.

Hands of War: a poem of the silent pain a young woman endures in her fight of life alone.

A poem about a beautiful escape with a deep ending.

To Live or Exist? A poem about how everyday, the idea of losing him haunts me despite how much time has passed. I look into my past, present and future but cannot see which path I am on.