Blank pages are cruelPure torture in white or beigeBut how else to start

I can't remember the poemThat pierced through my heartIt was the saddest I heardOf all truths ever spokenIt left a scar in meA wound that doesn't healBut the words are forgottenSo is a big part of me

I read for pleasureIn search of fictional worldsTo enrich my truths

I exaggerateThere is a lie in my truthLook! My soul is blue

I crouch in cornersThe infection is widespreadLove epidemic

No music in the raindropsNo clouds with silver liningTorrents of sorrowsHorror in streams

People really do not change....they exist...

She wins who calls herself beautiful and challenges the world to change to truly see her.

While we are grateful to all the brave men and officers for the events of the past few days, we should, above all, be very grateful to Almighty God, who gives us victory.

For me writing is as close to being an engineer as possible.

People identify with me - everyone does - African American women, Caucasian women, they all identify with me because I'm ethnic.

He who knows how to be poor knows everything.

From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.

You can't flip-flop and be commander-in-chief.

A man guilty of poverty easily believes himself suspected.

I am so scared of the sea, so what did I do? Learned to scuba in the Great Barrier Reef.