The love of friends is sometime the last we have.
But we can't buy it, but earn it.
But to earn it, we first to have open up our hearts.
A thought.
A poem.
Nothing and all.
The love of friends is sometime the last we have.
But we can't buy it, but earn it.
But to earn it, we first to have open up our hearts.
A thought.
A poem.
Nothing and all.
Drenched from the blood in my veins, this book speaks of the different aspects of the dark. Catastrophically, the woeful brooks flow through these pages, bringing with them, the unavoidable, unwaveri...