ridden

even in the tree where I was a bud I did not belong I was misshapen different color never handpicked the wind that shook them all gently never circled m. the sun never gave glory to me and I chilled in the shade while the legacies were smiled upon I carried the bitter seed as hands chose their ripened beauty I was allowed to rot

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

More about me