There is a small thread between truth and lies, between love and hate and between you and I. However, the thread can easily be broken; that's when life begins. I'm school, you read. You've spend hours reading 1,000 year old poems and studying authors that died years ago, but perhaps - just maybe; it's not about learning and memorizing other people's words. it's about learning to write for yourself.. If life was written in poetry, what words would be running through your head at the time in the night you are most honest?
