I was a rag doll— trifled, toyed, and played Whose patchworks were rended, torn, and ripped Every scraps and seams don't fit I'm a roman tapestry— stitched, sewn, and weaved Every thread is an untold story A piece of a whole new one unveiling before me



I fear my nebular shadows might taint the stillness of white clouds The parched troposphere is parching my humid breath, my humid body Suspended in the air A borehole is running out of fluid I hear the music of pendulum galloping tearing used papers, scratching empty walls whispering I couldn't write no more My stagnant …


I was reluctant to create this post but I thought that I must because I owe you, guys. I'll make this short and simple. There's a lot going on with me lately, and I almost forgot that today marks the second month of my blog. And creating this blog was one of the greatest decisions …