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Vultures [Poetry]

Vultures can smell frying flesh and Charred cells they descend from heaven on wings carrying death coasting over the waves of souls rising They hover

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(Un)True [POETRY]

I was never one for perfection. The swoops of my penmanship never had to lay in synchronicity. They were made to give a point, and

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Love or Royalty [Poetry]

Abira of Lonsdale was the princess-to-be If it came down to it, She would choose the crown, Having the crown meant happiness, Pleasure, Wealth, Delight,

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