Bewildered Truth.

I'm just a child who writes as if tomorrow is my last day on earth. A child whose style does not consist of short skirts and pink make up, but of pens and notebooks. My mind is as ease once the ink hits the paper, every thought lingering around my mind comes out. Many would expect of a plot, a setting, a theme, etc. To be honest, this is not completely planned out; I have none of these. So here goes nothing. Let the pen flow like a feather falling, as the pen reveals these lingering thoughts inside.