AngerRage induced blindness, waking to consequences.
AloneAlone. My personal hell... can't... breath...
The FluteMy music echoes, empty concert halls.
A writer's lifeShh, be quiet, let me see,A world is growing within me.Silent nights bring them near,And through me their lives are clear.The stories I write are not my ownThey stem from a life that my words clone.A writer experiences the world they writeWe live their lives, we use their sight.So please be quiet and let me see,Their stories will come alive through me.