Contained. Nine months in ma’s. Flushed out into a world this one could be the fourth mistake. A bird. Singing a song for another. That childhood was a wasted, redundant replay. One day, he opened the music box He found nothing but the weight and warmth of a pocket knife. Loyalty. The bird … Continue reading The Fourth.
Soon, I'll be posting the poem, The Fourth. It's original title was "Phoenix" and it's one of the rejected poems... but who cares? Me? Me. It's one of the 'no, we can't accept your works right now.' I've sent some poems and fiction works. Of course, some were accepted, some not. That's the perks of … Continue reading Should I say “thanks?”
I live by the fact that I am not exactly who I envision myself to be. Not exactly a charmer (I still am awkward). Not exactly brilliant (I'm still stupid by some standards). Not exactly kind-hearted (I can still walk alongside people who are in poverty and not feel a thing). Not exactly mild-mannered (I … Continue reading I’m afraid.
Why? Why does this suddenly feel futile? Catching falling hearts is no fun, especially if it's my heart that we're talking about.