Before you go on to tell me exactly why and how important it is, just hear me out.
My old escapes are like secret passageways in and out of my brain.
To work on Saturdays is as much fun as peeling peas from their pods is.
I am not a sleep lover, but who doesn't love a dream.
A world of justice is now an aspirational caricature on a graffiti wall.
Either we desperately try to make our dreams a reality or we give up on them casting them away as fantasy.
Poetry wasn't just some old pastime, it was an extension of my soul.
I always thought luck was this huge scam that I wanted to steer clear of. It's hard though, it's hard not to give in to your insecurities.
You can't really wait around for people to find you if you're silent, you have to stand out and stand up for yourself. How can you convince anyone else when you can't even convince yourself?