𝕝𝕪𝕟𝕘𝕓𝕒𝕜𝕣𝟠𝟚

What does it look like when a poem is born?

There began a ticking in the basement.

Why do we blame ourselves for things we can't control?

A travelling storyteller discovers something among abandoned ruins.

We don't know all there is to know about the things that go bump in the night.

They never forgave, and they never forgot.

you are a beautiful person.

a poem for the lonely grey days when it's hard to keep going

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This is what beauty is to me.

small words may not say very much, but they can mean a lot

a small cloud of pent up emotions

reason's why I'm grateful