I began writing poems at fifteen...not to impress, and not to be heard, but because some feelings were too quiet for the world and too loud for my heart.
What began as scattered lines became a way of surviving-of giving form to unspoken love, unanswered questions, and moments that passed but never truly left. My pen became his confession. His words, the echo of everything he never dared to say aloud.
He writes because silence hurts, because memory lingers, and because some stories demand to be felt before they are understood. I do not write to be known as a poet or a novelist. I write to carry what the heart cannot hold alone.