ink
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A Paradox of Being
In the quiet hours My pen finds its purpose A companion against the solitude. Continue reading
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The Tree House (Unfiltered)
Sitting here in this tree house, I see beautiful things all around me. But I can’t see the beauty inside. Continue reading
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A Writer’s Love
To be loved by a writer is said to be a privilege A muse immortalized in ink. And perhaps it is. Continue reading
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SHE WAS GORGEOUS WITH ALL HER BROKEN YEARNS
Cracks like lightning veins upon her skin, A map of battles fought and scars within. Continue reading
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A Lonely Tree Crying In The Storm
Under a shroud of stormy grey, A tree sways a mournful sigh. Continue reading
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This Is How I Saw You
As the warmth of the winter Sun dispelling winter’s chill. As a soft kiss upon the forehead whispering everything is alright. Continue reading
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Unleashing Chaos Through Ink
I crave a pen that bleeds my mind, A torrent of thought, a hunger to find. Continue reading
