Art is not art it is the artist, that is art itself for the mind makes wonders unseen or untold in a world driven by money and gold, we live our life in creative ways running and plowing through fields, but as the sun sets we rest our heads to till the morrow we set out to venture
YOU ARE READING
poems of the past
Poesíapoems I've come up with from my past and my present that I shall present on display
