❝You can't cling to the past. Because no matter how tightly you hold on, it's already gone.❞

A piece of soul in ink, and unto the paper it spilled. A collection of thoughts that rhyme from a wandering mind.

"i. they tell me they 
cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them
 that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. science. history. iv. but i want to speak. there are moments that fleet away when i do not store them. there are impulses that dab off when i do not write. v. when i am alive, i burst
open with Slyvia Plath and Robert Frost. my hair fluffs with words. my veins cry with poetry. vi. welcome to my poetry book. i hope you drown in the words you sink in." ©theperfectphoenix Established -- [09-03-2016] Highest Rank : #2 in Poetry. Now A Wattpad Featured Book! [20-05-2016]

Between the ravine and the train tracks, I was thoroughly bound. Forever destined to run three miles in either direction and find one or the other waiting to hold me back. Keep me trapped. In a shallow bowl, I was kept safe and secure. With no one to hear my cries; no one to see the tears as they fell relentlessly down my face. Until he came. Until he became my everything.