I recall clearly when I wrote a short poem,
That I gave to my mom
And I watched it being torn to pieces
And walked off while talking to someone on the phone
Tears streamed down from my eyes
Because there is no such thing as small
For me
There are no little things
ČTEŠ
Twists n' Scribbles
NezařaditelnéThese short stories and thoughts of articulated words are a light-bulb on the head, or it just occurred to self while wandering through the road of life. They are very much random, but not entirely senseless. Actually, this is my personal creepypas...
