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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.

These Words

These Words

There is only me, and these words are my missing piece to quell the ache that lies within, to fuel the fire and fall in love again There is only me, and these words rekindle dreams and repair my soul making me whole and calm the rain and the lingering pain There is...

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Artful Insanity

Artful Insanity

  Time stops, a random occurrence, while we collect our thoughts (I think we're lost) but, maybe not Maybe, we're found, caught between figments and notions of fiction and reality as we spin tales for other's eyes (such greedy spies, they gobble up our words)...

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Take My Hand

Take My Hand

  I crossed lines and made mistakes, waged war on a heart much too good to break And if I'm honest, in my mind, I knew one of these days I'd push you away But, here you stand reaching out to take my hand, giving your all to make sure I don't fall while the heat...

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Haunting

Haunting

She lurks in spaces where shadows are spun, the ghosts of things yet to come, a figment of your wild imagination, a lingering haunting of your own creation to show you exactly who you've become, and watch all your pieces slowly come undone Breath of Words© 1/11/17...

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