She is just like the moon, full of scars, imperfections and loneliness. Yet she shines the brightest amongst the empty flickers of surrounding stars. They all try to be her, making feeble attempts at
Where should I look for you, In the heart? Or the brain? In the artist's art? Or somewhere in the train? What should I do? Look for something new, Or let things brew? Should I stay? Well, a yes to tha
Thy life, hath loveth harrowing all of mine, O blank as oblivion, serene the eyes could find; Announcing thy summer, ye fragrance made a glide, Now splashes in my heart, a melancholic tide; She knowet