My face isn't carved in a mountain. I've never been struck by lightning.
I've never saved a crying baby from a burning house fire nor have I over come my misfortunes in life to acquire a name for myself. I consider myself a writer although all I've written is only pieces of torn limbs of my distraught existence. (a bunch of poems)
Contact Form
Sunday, June 29, 2025
Quarantine the freedom of speech
My words flow across this piece of paper like an epidemic, pandemonium, a tsunami of Truth!
No comments:
Post a Comment