Poems from shannaism
These are nights with weary eyes.
Nights that allow my brain to construct more elaborate lies to feed myself.
But these are nights that mix...
I'm sorry that I fit the face of villains.
Villains that have one criteria - white.
I'm sorry that centuries ago someone nameless to us...
I’m Sitting
Just sitting
But then again not really
I’m Thinking
Sitting and thinking
Still, not completely
Thinking about what I'm thinking...
When she's talking and jumbles her words;
I can see, without seeing,
that she blushes.
That red.
Like rose petals kissed her cheeks
And don...
At the crossroads you are balanced on the precipice overlooking every choice
And you like to point to the path that pleases your personal...