scorp

Time could kill, but it could not kill everything.

a nostalgic poem?

a poem about art block

I celebrate my tests instead of my smiles

Stories are remembered more than people. That’s why I remember the saying, but not the person who told it to me.

She could recall the rush of adrenaline, the lifting motion in her stomach, the smile that graced her face after the fact. Power wasn't something easily forgotten.

Two makeshift detectives chase after the disappearance of Ophelia Artel.

make an another world for me through the mirror

The sky was more often red than it was not ~ a short excerpt of a project

a little life story <33

outside a home, darkness swallowed the world whole.

a poem for all the mother figures in our lives-happy belated mother's day!