The desk of a writer, before being rid of all the tiny thoughts and unfinished chapters and half poems, that seem to leak from the pen without permission or purpose, is in itself, a piece of art.
The desk of a writer, before being rid of all the tiny thoughts and unfinished chapters and half poems, that seem to leak from the pen without permission or purpose, is in itself, a piece of art.
A book filled with words that I thought made sense, but they never seem to be enough.
*warning*
emotional, messy, raw and full of sadness (sometimes a little happiness here and there)
I hope you give...