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It took a long time for me to consider myself a writer. I still struggle with saying it. I started writing at a young age to work through feelings I didn’t dare tell anyone. I learned that once you start writing, it becomes a part of you. It’s something you always go back to whenever you are overwhelmed with certain emotions. People don’t always listen to your words, but the paper always listens to the pen.

Cold Nights

Cold Nights

  you ask me for the time and wanted to know about the weather and all I could think about was the year when winter stripped away the last pieces of us (i’m barely holding on and you barely remember) we were so busy putting out fires that we let our own die out i...

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Daunting Nights

Daunting Nights

She pricked her finger on the spindle of your thorns, fell prisoner to your irascible temper and lying eyes, the jewel in your own vainglorious crown, locked up behind the rage of daunting nights She felt you reach out for her to hold your mad hands as if to save her...

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Lifegiver

Lifegiver

my heart gets just as fixated as my mind these days, each pulse feeding into some chronic compulsion to run, to run, to run away darkness betrays, shadows threaten to exsanguinate (your name tastes bitter in my blood) and I’m clinging to anything that feels like...

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