New York    Hmmmmm..

The song of the heart cannot be heard but only read, likewise the struggles. And therefore the hands of the poet are obliged to make ...

21/Non-binary/MNL    struggling to find what my hands are for.

Eastvale    im not poetic. im not creative . just writing words that come to my mind

In the astral plane ॐ    I write like nobody's reading.

'I'm scared they'll devour me/ So I devour myself...'

"I believe we are dust and shadows" "For the truth was, he loved life and was fond of building it up"

In the corners of my mind    This page is a result of a girl rubbed raw by an unforgiving, beautiful life.