21 years [old] of mistakes.
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I once had 2 poetry books.
1 was blue, it was the lighter, happier poems.
1 was red. They were violent, deep, hurtful poems.
My parents discovered them at around 14.
They took me to a psychiatrist. One who took offense to one of the poems in particular.
The books are now destroyed,and so was my hope for writing for a very long time. I have just recently started, very slowly, to begin to write again.
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I don’t remember why I started taking pictures, or where. They just are, as I am.
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the result of temptation

  • Joined: September 2009
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