I grieve and dare not show my discontent
I love and yet am forced to seem to hate
I do, yet dare not say I ever meant
I seem stark mute but inwardly do prate
I am and not, I freeze and yet am burned
Since from myself another self I turned
Writing, prose, poems. I don't know what to deem what.
Ask me anything
March 8, 2014
Excerpt From: On Monsieur’s Departure