Most Days.

Art was always supposed to be something to cherish.

What Other Way Is There To Create?

It's only natural.

Abandoned.

I'll leave that one up to you.

Praises.

An illusion is all it was...

Daydream Mine.

Perhaps this is what it means to lose oneself...

Cry Into The Ocean.

Letters in bottles drifting with the tides.

Shallow Graves.

There are secrets you can’t take to the grave.

On Different Paths.

And it's finally the last post for this incredibly mad year.

The Best Thing.

I took my time writing today because I am honestly not feeling it.

Edge of the Cliff.

I couldn't really explain if I tried.

The Coldest Winter.

I've been addicted to writing angsty things lately.

One Too Many Falls.

We were so blind.

‘Hell to Pay’.

I thought an open-ended prologue would be a nice addition.

Running Knives.

Maybe I'm just a bloodied mess.

A Dream Too Long.

Looking for a door, for a way out

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