Ross, pt. II

The sway and croon of the evening's orchestration became a deafening cascade of the purest emotion, as can be expected from any young boy who has not yet learned to know any better or any worse. Innocence crystalline as a sunset on the sea's horizon glistened and glanced off of the greenhouse's glass walls, and... Continue Reading →

When I Was But a Child

I have scars from when I was but a child The days when I was allowed to be reckless and wild And amidst tragedies I didn't yet understand, I smiled And I never knew the novel I'd become was being compiled   I have scars from when I was a young man With confidence and... Continue Reading →

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