The Cloudy Sky

Oh cloudy sky, how many storms do you hold in your bosom ? What unrest do you stoically hold? How many slurs shall you continue to endure? You grow grim, you grow dark, my overcast sky, what burden do you hold? Mortals keep wishing for a sunny day or a starry night, disregarding the great griefs that you keep building.

Wounds

This post is for the people who keep lying to themselves(including me!). It is for the ones who are waiting for a miracle to happen. Let's get real and face the music. Life is not always pleasant and fair and you make it worse when you complain or blame or just sit idly feeling cast … Continue reading Wounds