Poem about the passion that is the written word.

This makes me really sick of Triond.

Being criticized constantly for a condition one can not help, becomes painful, no matter what it is.

In regards to the three poems I have in the declined section that I’d like to re-post.

Educating ourselves for a better tomorrow.

Giving into love.

Editors are necessary and helpful to us writers, but sometimes they just drive you up the wall.

What is it that you see the instant you look into the mirror?

The simplest of symbols. The beginning or end, but always the start of something.