Writing

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My words are unpredictable, behaving selfishly at times. I may need them, they won’t answer; wishing to repel them, they will rather dance before me. Sometimes we sympathize with one another, and I feel today they harmonize with me. I shelter them, minority in the beginning for they’ll repay growing with the writing. If, of course, they don’t fail me…

Writing.Com
Red Room
NaNoWriMo

POETRY ▪ MONOLOGUES ▪ ESSAYS
The Castle of My Only Dreams
The Combat Field of Yin-Yang Passion
I Discriminate
Pills of Sadness
Disclaimer ▪ Eternal Cycle
Choice of the Moment?! ▪ The True Bliss
Anne Boleyn

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