top of page
Collection of Thoughts
Search


Pin Cushion
Dear Death,
You have turned me into a pin cushion.
Each tiny needle stabbing me with a
different emotion.


Desire’s Fire
Haunting past, blazing fire
Cold and icy road
Where to go?
Temptation to unknown
Oh what dark thoughts I have sewn

Grief clung to me
Who will you be
Who will you become
Who will you push others to be
Because of me
Yet
Because of you?
bottom of page