A poem written while admiring the curves and contours of a seashell.

When you’re changing so much to something you never knew you could be.

A hiker confronts a blood thirsty creature.

3/3/2012.

Men Are Just Happier People.

A poem.

Years passed. Names were forgotten. Eventually all the people, gods, monsters who frequented the clearing died or moved on. Those who strayed discovered other more obscure places to go about their day. Newcomers stubbled upon the place form time to time and found nothing. The "nice people" that used to make the clearing livable had all but forsaken the fields. The land had been destroyed by countless battles of immense power. Nothing grew any longer. The Clearing had become a wasteland. All that was left was scorched earth surrounded by a lake on one end and a forest on the other with an entrance marked by a corroded sign of stone that read "Creatures Welcome". What was once a haven was now a great plain of barren land.

A fearful poem for Halloween.

Life is short.

A poem I wrote.