The swift sword cuts deep in your flesh, but the words you weave on paper cuts deep into your thoughts. The sword fought wars with unbelievable brutality, but words ended wars with countries over shores. The sword pierced holes in hearts of the innocent and spilled blood on floors, while shakespear caught the hearts of audiences at each of their cores.
The gates of revolution opened when paper held ink. I write because I'm a storyteller, everyone has his or her own calling, and I need to answer mine before I sink to rock bottom. I want my writing to be in the ring with Steven King someday. The words weaved in the paper of a book lies a story, it might be the glitter that rains in your dreams, or it might be drastically gorey. Some people have they're own reasons to write, but I know mine, it's in my bloodline, it swims the deepest roots of my instincts. It walks in the background of my dreams or nightmares, it roams my minds eye of my daydreams. And it sings to me in the back of my head when I'm trying to concentrate. I write because sometimes the stories in my head needs to be written on paper, or drawn in animation. And animation takes too long.
ns216.73.217.39da2
and then Add to home screen.