He watched as she walked out on the stage, holding her violin. This gothic beauty. This creature that holds too much beauty to hold and be of this earth. He had to have her. No one else but her. No one could hold her but him. Nothihng could stop him frome gtting to her not… Continue reading The Watcher pt I
Tag: violin
Dead and Buried (poetry)
When my chin just won’t come up And my eyes just will not rise I know my life is going down My soul is making silent cries
Soft Violin
In my sanity, my threshold, I surrender. Banish me from your family, a simple request from a faithless boy. A god to take my father, in my recklessness.