I am the splintering continents of humanity. I am the old and the new. Tradition meets liberalism. I am the culture shock and the cynic in the corner and the loudest kid in the class. I am the teacher’s pet and the teacher’s headache. I am all-encompassing love and seething, sightless hate. I am the eyes and the ears and the fingertips in the dark. I am never and always alone. I am cold feet and sunburns. I am bulky paragraphs that never end, and I am
broken
phrases on a wide-ruled page. I am an artist and a plagarist. I am a pessimistic optimist, and when I hold still I move so fast no one sees me.
I think.
You never know, but I know everything. I am everything. Compassion. Pain, with. To suffer with. I am here to love and judge and call names and dry tears. I am here to act a thousand roles and shoot stars out of the sky. I am here to light up the night and darken the day.
I am a writer, now what else can I say?
YOU ARE READING
the angst album
No FicciónA collection of the little things I write, some poems, some those scrolling paragraphs I can't ever seem to escape. Here is my heart, and since you are a stranger you cannot hurt me with it. Vote if you like, don't vote if you don't, hell you could...
