Aspiring actor and word jotter.
RED by Benjamin Clarkson After a brief stop halfway along Almer Road, she adjusted her iPod’s playlist, Sophie continued her journey home.
I'll write this poem, it's just for you. Now take a breath and read on through. There are at times low points where we get sad, Where nothing could be worse its far past bad.
There's a dull spreading ache from my back to my head that puts me on hold and keeps me in bed The sound of spray in the street and tapping at the window pane , the ground is soaked, slippery, wet...
Be careful of those who proclaim the truth, meet them with caution, deliberation and celebration..
The air of winter falls upon us again, Another year gone and another year spent. The fleeting flocks of birds due south, and clouds of carols are as fog from mouth.
I thought I saw, Something I'd seen, That I could feel, It was so real. I've been here before, This is to be sure, But now that it's said That feeling is dead.