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Feather Touch

What haunts you?

Your traumas haunt you

The Poet 1

I just can't find it in me,

Used, as a toy

You didn't have to

Its the way you perceive

I feel like a flower with falling petals right now

Spectator and More

I've always enjoyed visitors

The World of Love

If you ask me to write about love at this point in my life

Remember, you Die.

Memento mori Remember you must die.

Write to me, love

Write me a song

Sorry, I'm not Sorry.

Never again. I refuse to waste my apologies

Let it heal

On the mosaic of wounds covering my fragile mind

The Ideal woman, my mother

I know you were raised broken too

Betrayed - a good guy

Everyone and everything that touches me feels wrong now.

Not the Fuel to your engine.

I don't think we are going to work out

My Mother, with love

I always do my best to avoid you.

The Poet

Poetry doesn't pour out of young women's lips like milk or honey

The Reality Of Life

When I asked what shoulder blades are for


What goes around, keeps going until it finds its way back.

Cage of praxis

Cage of praxis
the dichotomy of freedom & safety

Fallen leaves of Autumn

Fallen leaves of Autumn
Shedding insecurities like the falling of leaves – if only it was that simple and so easy

Rainbow splatterings

Rainbow splatterings
The picture painted by the shadows of periods, in the colour of words & emotions.

Red, bright and sprinkled in light

Red, bright and sprinkled in light
Period blues and their consequent crimson emotion.

What women won't

What women won't
Holding back on me, doing it for you. No more, no more.