Me, Myself and Depression. Subscribe to Blog via Email. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Join 10,760 other subscribers.

I have a slight obsession with clouds, especially when they look like marshmallows and the sun is streaking through them just right.

A little hope, A little life. If There is a God. Inside a broken castle- Poetry. What made you hate him so much. A Letter to The One I Lost. A wonderful Letter To his New Girl from his coward Ex. Giving up on Your dream? August 21, 2016.

Hope in the goodness of Humanity. THE TREE and THE SEA. Falling Men and Cosmic Dust. On My Orange Tree! On My Orange Tree! Good vs. THE TREE and THE SEA. On a hill, there is a tree. Extending its boughs towards the sea. Yearning for what she cannot reach. I heard it moaning with. The wind shaking with grieve. Turning upward away from the soil,.

Cognitive Functions and the MBTI Types. Love and Being in Love? October 23, 2016. Going through One Blog Archive at a Time. Enter your email address to follow SeleMoir and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Ramblings by someone who is made of perfections and imperfections, dreams and excuses, and smiles and scars. I could see in the depth of your eyes. Shades of all the cities. I ever dreamt of traveling to. But little did i know of. The lust that lurked beneath all the hues. Not just the lust to make love with my body. But also the one to make love. With all the pain that would wreathe me. When you would drift away from me. Alone, without your arms.

Follow The Empire of Carane on WordPress. Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. How is death different from life? 8221; he shouted. He must have gone to deliver the wood in the market. He will never be here anymore. Surely, they would not? Gaspa.

Everything and nothing in one place. The Time I Forgot About Time. Like there was something wrong with my actions.

Inspiring personal growth through poetry and writing. Sign up for a newsletter. Is made of tears,. No bricks, no wals. And recklessly try to climb. But day retreats, cowardly, in guilt,. Quilted with shy stars and mourning moon. And I say, restore and watch. Like fireflies caught in the rain. Distant, but intense,. Snow rolls in between breasts. Of this curvy city,.