where the writers are
thats me.

Am not a thief

born to hide

but a victim of theft

born to the side.

the power of love

stolen for a stride

that i then strive

to relinquish the trend.


having it all?

how blind are you

amongst them all,

who are you?


amongst the blue

you see the sun set

to see you through

for the world to set.

you see the sun

with no son;

as the rest of he world

wanders away;

to empty wonders,

for the love in your chest-

is not for those you truly chaste!