Poem Number Twentynine.

Poem Number Twentyfour.

Poem about death.

Thumbin’ my nose at the grim reaper.

Short story of a 19th century women who perceived pain as pleasure. then she was thought to be a witch. I wrote it for school, and I got a high mark, so I thought I should publish it on triond.

A poem.

Foggy night, ghostly presence, a caravan of the damned.

Got the title for this horror verse from an old love song.

A woman waiting to move on to the next stage of her life.

A woman comes face to face with death.