Poetry (poems)
Poetry is passion, by form constrained To find in words what minds disdain, To seek the hearts raw depths restrained, And pierce, to flow again
Poetry is passion, by form constrained To find in words what minds disdain, To seek the hearts raw depths restrained, And pierce, to flow again
It was a peaceful day on the day the world had ended and there was no sign that showed that this calm day would become the day that changed the rest of everybody's life. My name is Vala. Vala Cepeda - and this is my story - our story - about the day the world ended.