Love is a tricky word. It comes in every form, every emotion, every action. It means passion, adoration, pain, ignorance, melancholy, even rage. Its a fickle word. Constantly changing and always fluctuating. A word that will kill you and wrap your wounds tenderly with the cleanest bandages. Love is hard to decipher. Love can look like a wax figure. It looks (sounds) human (like the words I Love ... » Continue Reading
"The pen may write history," he declared, caught between truth and lies. "But a pen is nothing without ink," I replied. "I am my own story." I wrote my life in bold strokes, each word a testament, A manuscript of belief, until you blotted the page. And I never erased the stain. You felt the weight of every unwritten verse within that single drop, But it was my script that was marred. It's a life i... » Continue Reading