Liberation

A sea shell she was,

the current pulling her from the coldest to the darkest parts.

Her beauty was never seen,

how could it?

Between the claws of seaweeds who wouldn’t let her sheen.

Then she faced her ice berg, slammed into a million pieces…

She didn’t care,

being liberated had far more value than a fragile shell,

who couldn’t kindle her flair.

The Book is Being Written

How we observe and how we reflect.

The Dreary Faceless

The observations and reflections of a traveller in a foreign land.

The Model House

The facades of a perfect home.

The Woman Who

This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.

IdEgo

Dreams, desires, id and ego.